£ 


THE 


LANGUAGE  AND  POETRY 


FLOWERS. 


r 


¥031 


BY    H.   G.    ADAMS. 


"  I  nave  gatnered  a  nosejjy  ol  Called   Flowerf  and   brought  nothing  o(  aij 
own,  tst  the  thread  that  lies  them." 


NEW     YORK: 
DERBY  &   JACKSOX,  119   NASSAU  STREET 

1858. 


Entered  according  to  the  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S53,  by 
HENRY    P.    ANNERS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  Eastern  District 
of  Pennsylvania, 


The  motto  chosen  for  the  title  page  of  this  little 
volume,  will  best  explain  the  nature  and  plan  of  it, 
and  therefore  the  readers  are  spared  the  infliction  of 
a  long  elucidatory  preface,  which  it  is  quite  likely  that 
they  would  not  take  the  trouble  to  read.  Apologies 
for  putting  forth  a  work  on  a  similar  subject  to  BO 
many  beautiful  volumes  as  to  have,  during  the  last 
few  years,  issued  from  the  press,  the  Editor  does  not 
conceive  to  be  necessary,  because  he  feels  assured 
that  the  taste  for  flowers,  and  for  the  poetical  associa- 
tions connected  therewith,  widely  as  it  has  been 
extended  and  diffused  among  all  classes,  by  these 
various  publications,  is  still  a  growing  and  increasing 
one,  and  that  there  is  yet  room  for  many  more  works, 
both  original  and  collected,  upon  this  most  imagina- 
tive and  delightful  of  all  subjects. 


CONTENTS. 


Language  of  Flowers, H.  G.  Adams,  IS 

Holy  Flowers, Mary  Howitt,  31 

Water  Lilies, Mrs.  Hemans,  34 

Albanian  Love  Letter, Leigh  Hunt,  So 

Flower  Girl, Mrs.  Corbold,  37 

The  Bud  of  the  Rose, 38 

Forget  Me  Not, 39 

Love  in  a  Rose  Bud, S.  Coleridge,  41 

To  a  Daisy, Wordsworth,  42 

To  a  Bunch  of  Flowers, James  L.  Clark,  43 

The  Violet, 46 

Autumn  Flowers, 47 

The  Honey  Suckle, Countess  of  Blessington,  49 

The  Rose  Bud, Keeble,  51 

Sun  Flower, Thompson,  54 

The  Moss  Rose, J.  B.  55 

Moral  Flowers, H.  G.  Adams,  56 

The  Flower  of  the  Desert, Mrs.  Hemans,  75 

The  Flower  of  Fenestrella, 78 

The  Use  of  Flowers, Mrs.  Howitt,  80 

To  a  Flower Barry  Cornwall,  82 

A  Song  of  the  Rose, Mrs.  Heman?,  84 


CONTENTS. 

Children  and  Flowers, H.  G.  Adams,  87 

A  Prospect  of  Flowers, Andrew  Marvell,  108 

Hyacinth, Casimir,  109 

A  Birth-Day  Ballad, Mrs.  Jewsburg,  110 

The  Furze, 112 

Floral  Ceremonies, H.  G.  Adams,  113 

Hymn  of  the  Turkish  Children, Miss  Pardoe,  132 

Hindoo  Girls  Floating  their  Tributary 

Offerings  Down  the  Ganges, Miss  Landon,  134 

Funeral  Flowers, H.  G.  Adams,  139 

Lines, M.  A.  Brown,  158 

Mrs.  Hemans  <k  L.  E.  L., 161 

Wedding  Wake, George  Darley,  162 

The  Dying  Boy  to  the  Sloe  Blossom, E.  Elliott,  164 

Wild  Flowers, H.  G.Adams,  169 

Heliotrope, 188 

Wild  Flowers Anne  Pratt,  189 

Decision  of  the  Flower, L.  E.  L.,  192 

The  Wild  Flowers, F.  J.  Smith,  193 

A  Wild  Flower  Wreath, 194 

The  Cowslip, 196 

Daffodils, 198 

Violet's  Spring  Song, L.  A.  Twamley,  199 

To  a  Rose, 201 

The  Alpine  Violet, Byron,  205 


CONTENTS. 

Unchanted  Plant?, by  Madame  Montolieu, 

"          Introdnction, 206 

"  Grumbling, 208 

'•  Scandal, 213 

"          Despair, 216 

"          Sensibility, 218 

"          Contention, 222 

"          Love, 225 

Wall  Flower , 229 

Temptation.     A  Floral  Fable, 230 

Vulgarity,  "  " 234 

Vanity.  "  " 238 

On  the  Rose, H.Walton,  240 

Songs  and  Chorus  of  the  Flowers, Leigh  Hunt,  241 

The  Lay  of  the  Rose,. Elizabeth  B.  Bennett,  251 

On  a  Faded  Violet, Shelley,  261 

Hare  Bell, Marie  Roseau,  262 

The  Forget  Me  Not, 264 

Love  shut  out  of  the  Flower  Garden,    Mrs.  Laurence,  265 
The  Captive  and  Flowers, Goethe,  268 

SUPPLEMENT. 

Flowers,  with  the  Sentiments  which  they  represent,...  13 
Sentiments  and  the  Flowers  by  which  they  are 
represented, ..„.„,  37 


LANGUAGE    OF     FLOWERS. 


"The  gentle  flowers 

Retired,  and  stooping  o'er  the  wilderness, 
Talked  of  humility,  and  peace,  and  love." 

EGBERT  POLLOK. 

OVER  what  barren  spot  is  it,  reader,  that  the 
"  gentle  flowers"  shed,  with  most  effect,  their 
sanctifying  influence  ?  Is  it  not  over  that  moral 
"  wilderness,"  the  heart  of  man,  that  they 
"  stoop,"  and  "  talk  of  humility,  and  peace  and 
love,"  till  the  stony  places  become  fruitful,  and 
produce  abundantly,  good  thoughts,  pure  wishes, 
and  holy  desires  and  aspirations ;  till  the  sterile 
waste  changes  to  a  garden  ?  It  is,  and  none 
that  have  ever  truly  listened  to  their  eloquent 
2  13 


14  LANGUAGE     OP     FLOWERS. 

preaching,  have  turned  away  unimproved  and 
uninstructed,  for  : — 

"From  the  first  bud,  whose  verdant  head 

The  winter's  lingering  tempest  braves, 
To  those,  which  'mid  the  foliage  dead, 

Shrink  latest  to  their  annual  graves  ; 
All  are  for  use,  for  health,  or  pleasure  given, 
All  speak,  in  various  ways,  the  bounteous  hand  of  Heaven." 

CHARLOTTE  SMITH. 

These  are  the  sentiments  of  a  pure  mind  and 
a  lofty  imagination,  and  the  authoress  of  the 
following  words  may  well  claim  sisterhood  with 
her  from  whom  they  emanated  : — "  And  who 
dare  say  that  flowers  do  not  speak  a  language, 
a  clear  and  intelligible  language  ?  Ask  WORDS- 
WORTH, for  to  him  they  have  spoken,  until  they 
excited  f  thoughts  that  lie  too  deep  for  tears ;' 
ask  CHAUCER,  for  he  held  companionship  with 
them  in  the  meadows  ;  ask  any  of  the  poets, 
ancient  or  modern.  Observe  them,  reader,  love 
them,  linger  over  them,  and  ask  your  own 
heart  if  they  do  not  speak  affection,  benevolence, 
and  piety  ?"  In  confirmation  of  this,  we  also 
quote  some  stanzas  from  another  poet,  whose 


LANGUAGE      OF     FLOWERS.  15 

volumes,  as  this  authoress  truly  observes,  "  are 
like  a  beautiful  country,  diversified  with  woods, 
meadows,  heaths,  and  flower-gardens  :"* — 

"  Bowing  adorers  of  the  gule, 
Ye  cowslips  delicately  pale, 

Upraise  your  loaded  stems; 
Unfold  your  cups  in  splendour,  apeak  ! 
Who  decked  you  with  that  ruddy  streak, 
And  gilt  your  golden  gems  ? 

"Violets,  sweet  tenants  of  the  shade, 
In  purple's  richest  pride  arrayed, 

Your  errand  here  fulfil 
Go,  bid  the  artist's  simple  stain 
Your  lustre  imitnte  in  vain, 

And  match  your  Maker's  skill. 

"  Daisies,  ye  flowers  of  lowly  birth, 
Embroiderers  of  the  carpet  earth, 

That  stud  the  velvet  sod, 
Open  to  Spring's  refreshing  air, 
In  sweetest,  smiling  bloom,  declare 

Your  Maker,  and  my  God." — JOHN  CLAHE. 

Verily,  it  was  well  said,  that  "  Solomon,  in  all 
his  glory  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these  ;" 
and  well  was  it  continued,  by  a  lately  departed 

*  Flora  Domestica. 


16  LANGUAGE     OF     FLOWERS. 

poet,  "  and  Solomon,  in  all  his  wisdom  never 
taught  more  wholesome  lessons  than  these 
silent  monitors  convey  to  a  thoughtful  mind 
and  an  understanding  heart."  "  There  arc 
two  books,"  says  SIR  THOMAS  BROWNE,  "  from 
whence  I  collect  my  divinity  ;  besides  that 
written  one  of  God,  another  of  His  servant, 
nature,  that  universal  and  public  manuscript 
that  lies  expanded  unto  the  eyes  of  all.  Those 
who  never  saw  Him  in  the  one  have  discovered 
Him  in  the  other.  This  was  the  scripture  and 
theology  of  the  heathens  ;  the  natural  motion  of 
the  sun  made  them  more  admire  Him  than  its 
supernatural  station  did  the  children  of  Israel; 
the  ordinary  effects  of  nature  wrought  more 
admiration  in  them,  than  in  the  other  all  his 
miracles.  Surely  the  heathens  knew  better 
how  to  join  and  read  these  mystical  letters,  than 
we  Christians,  who  cast  a  more  careless  eye  on 
these  common  hieroglyphics,  and  disdain  to 
suck  divinity  from  the  flowers  of  nature." 

"  Flowers,"  says  MR.  PHILLIPS,  "  formed  a 
principal  feature  in  symbolical  language,  which 
is  the  most  ancient,  as  well  as  the  most  natural, 


LANGUAGE     OF     FLOWERS.  17 

of  all  languages.  It  was  an  easy  transition, 
after  they  had  come  to  be  regarded  as  proofs 
and  manifestations  of  divine  love,  goodness,  and 
protection,  to  make  them  the  signs  and  symbols 
of  human  feelings  and  passions  ;  hence  hopes, 
fears,  and  desires,  joys  and  sorrows,  and  all  the 
sentiments  and  emotions  which  sway  and  agitate 
the  soul  of  man,  have  had  their  appropriate 
expression  in  these  mute,  yet  eloquent  letters 
of  the  blooming  "  alphabet  of  creation  :" — 

"  By  all  those  token  flowers  that  tell 
What  words  can  ne'er  express  so  well." — BYROJT. 

Sings  the  poet  of  our  day,  adjuring  his  mistress 
to  believe  in  his  truth  and  fidelity,  and  so,  though 
in  somewhat  different  words,  might  have  sung, 
and  very  likely  did  sing,  the  Israelite  of  old  on 
the  flowery  banks  of  Jordan,  the  Babylonian  in 
his  hanging  gardens,  or  the  swarthy  son  of 
Egypt,  who,  kneeling  by  the  mysterious  Nile, 
might  have  plucked  the  blossom  of  the  bright 
nymphoea,  and  putting  it  to  his  lips,  and  turning 
to  the  earthly  idol  of  his  adoration,  have  said : — 


18  LANGUAGE     OF     FLOWEES 

"  The  lotus  flower,  whose  leaves  I  now 

Kiss  silently, 

Far  more  than  words  can  tell  thee  how 
I  worship  thee." — MOORE. 

This  may  be  considered  by  some  of  our  readers 
a  fanciful  theory,  but  surely  it  has  as  good 
foundations  for  its  support,  as  many  an  hypo- 
thesis which  has  obtained  universal  approbation 
and  credit. 

"  When  nature  laughs  out  in  all  the  triumph 
of  spring,  it  may  be  said,  without  a  metaphor 
that,  in  her  thousand  varieties  of  flowers,  we 
see  the  sweetest  of  her  smiles ;  that,  through 
them,  we  comprehend  the  exultation  of  her 
joys  :  and  that,  by  them,  she  wafts  her  songs 
of  thanksgiving  to  the  heaven  above  her,  which 
repays  her  tribute  of  gratitude  with  looks  of 
love.  Yes,  flowers  have  their  language.  Theirs 
is  an  oratory,  that  speaks  in  perfumed  silence, 
and  there  is  tenderness,  and  passion,  and  even 
the  light-hearted  ness  of  mirth  in  the  variegated 
beauty  of  their  vocabulary.  To  the  poetical 
mind,  they  are  not  mute  to  each  other ;  to  the 
piousi,  they  are  not  mute  to  their  Creator.  .  .  . 


LANGUAGE      OF     FLOWERS.  19 

No  spoken  word  can  approach  to  the  delicacy 
of  sentiment  to  be  inferred  from  a  flower  sea- 
sonably offered,  the  softest  impression  may  thus 
be  convoyed  without  offence,  and  even  profound 
grief  alleviated,  at  a  moment  when  the  most 
tuneful  voice  would  grate  harshly  on  the  ear, 
and  when  the  stricken  soul  can  be  soothed  only 
by  unbroken  silence." 

But  let  us  recur  to  the  words  of  this  "  Pro- 
fessor of  the  gentle  art,"  and  evidence  their 
truth  by  a  few  examples  showing  the  effect  of 
"  floral  language"  upon  a  mind  stricken  with 
grief.  Listen  to  PHILASTKR  : — 

"  I  have  a  boy, 

Sent  by  tbe  gods,  I  hope,  to  this  intent, 
Not  yet  seen  in  the  court.     Hunting  the  buck, 
I  found  him  sitting  by  a  fountain's  side, 
Of  which  he  borrowed  some  to  quench  his  thirst, 
And  paid  the  nymph  again  as  much  in  tears 
A  garland  lay  him  by,  made  by  himself 
Of  many  several  flowers,  bred  in  the  bay, 
Stuck  in  that  mystic  order,  that  the  rareness 
Delighted  me.     But  ever  when  he  turned 
His  tender  eyes  upon  'em,  he  would  weep, 
As  if  he  meant  to  make  'em  grow  again. 
Seeing  such  pretty  helpless  innocence 


20  LANGUAGE     OF     FLOWERS. 

Dwell  in  his  face,  I  asked  him  all  his  story. 

Ho  told  me  that  his  parents  gentle  died, 

Leaving  him  to  the  mercy  of  the  fields, 

Which  gave  him  roots,  and  of  the  crystal  springs, 

Which  did  not  stop  their  courses  ;  and  the  sun, 

Which  still,  he  thanked  him,  yielded  him  his  light. 

Then  took  he  up  his  garland,  and  did  show 

What  every  flower,  as  country  people  hold, 

Did  signify ;  and  how  all,  ordered  thus, 

Expressed  his  grief:  And,  to  my  thoughts,  did  read 

The  prettiest  lecture  of  his  country  art 

That  could  be  wished.     I  gladly  entertained  him, 

Who  was  as  glad  to  follow,  and  have  got 

The  trustiest,  loving'st,  and  the  gentlest  boy, 

That  ever  master  kept.    Him  will  I  send 

To  wait  on  you,  and  bear  our  hidden  love." 

BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER. 

Thus  did  the  gentle  boy  mitigate  his  grief  by 
turning  an  emblematic  wreath  into  a  mute 
expression  of  it. 

"  Give  sorrow  words  :  the  grief,  that  docs  not  speak, 
Whispers  the  o'er-fraught  heart,  and  bids  it  break." 

Says  Malcolm  to  the  bereaved  husband  and 
father  in  "  Macbeth," — and  this  poor  orphan 
had  hit  upon  a  mode  of  giving  his  (l  sorrow 
words,"  more  touching,  perhaps,  than  a  more 
loud  and  violent  utterance  could  have  been. 


LANGUAGE     Of     FLOWERS.  21 

Another  bard  has  given  us  an  example  of  the 
power  which  he  attributes  to  flowers  for  allaying 
the  tempest  of  grief,  rage,  and  hate,  passions 
which  sometimes  meet  and  struggle  for  mastery 
in  the  human  bosom,  rendering  him  whom  they 
control  speechless,  and  sullen  as  the  cloud, 
before  the  rattling  thunder  and  the  vivid  light- 
ning breaks  forth,  to  scathe  and  destroy.  In 
"  The  Bride  of  Abydos,"  Selim,  after  listening 
to  the  taunts  and  reproaches  of  old  Giaffir, 
stands  thus  moody  and  silent,  a  prey  to  these 
contending  passions,  when  : — 

"To  him  Zulieka's  eye  was  turned, 
But  little  from  his  aspect  learned; 
****** 

Thrice  paced  she  ilowly  through  the  room, 
And  watched  his  eye — it  still  was  fixed : 
She  snatched  the  urn,  wherein  was  mixed 

The  Persian  Atar-gul's  perfume, 

And  sprinkled  all  its  odors  o'er 

The  pictured  roof  and  marbled  floor ; 

The  drops,  that  through  his  glittering  vest 

The  playful  girl's  appeal  addressed, 

Unheeded  o'er  his  bosom  flew, 

As  if  that  breast  were  marble  too. 

What,  sullen  yet  ?  it  must  not  be — 

Oh !  gentle  Selim,  this  from  thee  ?' 


22  LANGUAGE     OF     FLOWERS. 

She  saw  in  curious  order  set 

The  fairest  flowers  of  Eastern  land — 
'He  loved  them  once — may  touch  them  yet, 

If  offered  by  Zulieka'.s  hand.' 
The  childish  thought  was  hardly  breathed 
Before  the  rose  was  plucked  and  wreathed ; 
The  next  fond  moment  saw  her  seat 
Her  fairy  form  at  Selim's  feet : 
This  rose,  to  calm  my  brother's  cares, 
A  message  from  the  Bulbul  bears  ; 
It  says  to-night  he  will  prolong, 
For  Selim's  ear  the  sweetest  song; 
And  though  his  note  is  somewhat  sad, 
He'll  try  for  once  a  strain  more  glad, 
With  some  faint  hope  his  altered  lay, 
May  sing  these  gloomy  thoughts  away.' 

W  •  *  -:::-  «-  * 

He  lived — he  breathed — he  moved — he  felt 
He  raised  the  maid  from  where  she  knelt  j 
His  trance  was  gone — his  keen  eye  shone 
With  thoughts  that  long  in  darkness  dwelt; 
With  thoughts  that  burn — in  rays  that  melt." 

BYRON. 

Let  us  present  our  readers  with  another  picture, 
somewhat  similar  to  the  first,  only  that  the  grief 
is  here  deeper  and  more  irremediable  : — 

"She  lived  on  alms,  and  carried  in  her  hand 
Some  withered  stalks  she  gathered  in  the  spring,- 


LANGUAGE      OF      FLOWERS.  23 

When  any  asked  the  cause,  she  smiled,  and  said 
They  were  her  sisters,  and  would  come  and  watch 
Her  grave  when  she  was  (load.     She  never  spoke 
Of  her  deceased  father,  mother,  home, 
Or  child,  or  heaven,  or  hell,  or  God,  b^t  still 
In  lonely  places  walked,  and  ever  gazed 
Upon  the  withered  stalks,  and  talked  to  them; 
Till  wasted  to  the  shadow  of  her  youth, 
With  woe  too  wide  to  see  beyond,  she  died." 

POLLOK. 

These  withered  stalks  were  to  her  as  beautiful 
and  full  of  perfume  as  when  they  were  first 
plucked,  and  she  regarded  them  as  the  friends 
and  companions  of  her  youth,  talking  to  them, 
and  receiving  answers  —  words  of  love  and 
affection.  We  are  here  reminded  of  poor 
Ophelia,  who  in  her  madness  made  "  fantastic 
garlands" 

"Of  crow  flowers,  nettles,  daisies,  and  long  purples." 
Of  which  it  has  been  observed  that  they  are 
all  emblematic  flowers,  the  first  signifying,  Fair 
Maid;  the  second,  stung  to  the  quick;  the 
third,  her  virgin  bloom;  the  fourth,  under  the 
cold  hand  of  death  ;  and  the  whole  being  wild 
flowers,  might  denote  the  bewildered  state  of 
her  faculties. 


24  LANGUAGE     OS     FLOJFEBS. 

"It  would  be  difficult,"  says  the  author  of 
this  observation,  "  to  find  a  more  emblematic 
wreath  for  this  interesting  victim  of  disappointed 
love  and  filial  sorrow."  This  is  only  one  of 
many  instances  in  which  our  greatest  poet  has 
displayed  his  fondness  for  flowers,  and  his 
delicate  appreciation  of  their  uses  and  simili- 
tudes. We  have  another  in  the  "  Winter's 
Tale,"  where  he  makes  Perdita  give  flowers  to 
her  visitors  appropriate  to,  and  symbolical  of, 
their  various  ages.  See  Act  4,  Scene  3. 

The  mystical  Language  of  Flowers,  as  applied 
to  the  passions  and  sentiments,  appears  to  have 
had  its  rise  in  those  sunny  regions  where  the 
rose  springs  spontaneously  from  its  native  soil, 
and  the  jessamine  and  the  tuberose  fill  with 
beauty  and  perfume  alike  the  garden  and  the 
wilderness. 

11  Certainly,"  says  a  writer  in  the  Edinburgh 
Magazine  of  1818,  "the  influence  of  this  land 
of  the  sun  has  been  felt  by  the  pilgrims  from 
our  colder  climes,  and  they  have  presented  to 
us  a  pleasing  fable  in  the  Language  of  Flowers, 
and  our  imaginations  have  received  with  delight 


LANGUAGE     OF     FLOWERS.  25 

tne  descriptions  and  interpretations  with  which 
we  have  been  favored  from  time  to  time.  We 
have  dwelt  on,  till  we  have  become  enamored 
of  the  delicate  mode  of  expressing  the  rise  and 
progress  of  love  by  the  gift  of  the  tender  rose- 
bud, or  the  full  blown  flower.  We  have  pitied 
the  despair  indicated  by  a  present  of  myrtle 
interwoven  with  cypress  and  poppies,  and  we 
believe  that  these  emblems  will  never  cease 
to  convey  some  similar  sentiments,  wherever 
poetry  is  cultivated  or  delicacy  understood." 
—  The  same  author  continues,  "  But"  —  Oh, 
reader,  mark  that  "but,"  'tis  a  frightful  word, 
is  it  not  ?  ever  coming-to  dissipate  some  bright 
dream,  to  scare  some  beautiful  phantom  of  the 
imagination  from  our  presence,  and  to  guide  our 
wandering  feet  back  into  the  world  of  cold 
reality,  where — 

"  The  mute  expression  of  sweet  nature's  voices, 
Are  drowned  amid  the  turmoil  of  life's  noises ; 
Where  thoughts  of  fear  and  darkness  come  unbidden, 
And  love  and  hope  are  into  silence  chidden." — H.  G.  A. 

«  But  we  fear  that  the  Turkish  {  Language  of 

Flowers,'    which   Lady  Montague   first   made 

3 


J 


26  LANGUAGE      OF     FLOWERS. 


popular  in  this  country,  has  little  claim  to  so 
refined  an  origin,  as  either  purity  or  the  delicacy 
of  passion.  We  had  been  taught  to  believe 
that  it  served  as  a  means  of  communication 
between  the  prisoners  of  the  harem  and  their 
friends  or  lovers  without :  but  how  could  it  be 
thus  used,  when  the  emblematic  nosegay  must 
convey  as  much  intelligence  to  the  guardians 
and  fellow-prisoners  of  one  of  the  parties,  as  to 
the  party  herself?  The  truth  appears  to  be 
that  the  4  Language  of  Flowers'  and  other 
inanimate  objects,  has  arisen  in  the  idleness  of 
the  harem,  from  the  desire  of  amusement  and 
variety  which  the  ladies  shut  up  there,  without 
employment,  and  without  culture,  must  feel. 
It  answers  the  purpose  of  enigmas,  the  solution 
of  which,  amuses  the  vacant  hours  of  the 
Turkish  ladies,  and  is  founded  on  a  sort  of 
crambo  or  bout  rimt,  of  which  M.  HAMMER 
has  given  not  less  than  an  hundred  specimens." 
We  quote  one  of  the  specimens  given  by  this 
ingenious  Frenchman,  in  the  Turkish  and  Eng- 
lish languages  : — 

"  Armonde — wer  bana  bir  Ominde." 
"  Pear — Let  me  not  Despair." 


LANGUAGE     OF     FLOWERS.  27 

This,  though  not  strictly  floral,  is  the  most 
manageable  as  regards  the  translation  that  could 
be  hit  upon,  and  we  have  therefore  chosen  it. 
Sometimes  a  word  has  various  meanings,  as 
various  sentences  rhyme  with  it ;  for  instance  : 

"  Rose — You  smile,  but  still  my  anguish  grows. 
Rose — For  tliee  my  heart  with  love  still  glows." 

Sometimes  a  double  rhyme  belongs  to  a  single 
word,  as : — 

"  Tea — You  are  both  sun  and  moon  to  me, 
Your's  is  the  light  by  which  I  sec." 

And  often  times  two  flowers  combined  may  form 
a  stanza,  as  : — 

"  The  opening  rose-bud  shows  how  pure 

My  love  for  thee,  thou  charming  maid; 
The  j> »it,  alas  !  thy  proud  disdain, 

With  which  my  ardent  passion's  paid." 

By  the  above  examples,  it  will  be  seen  that 
there  is  nothing  on  earth,  in  air,  or  water,  to 
which  a  meaning  may  not  be  attached,  but 
these  meanings  are  very  arbitrary,  depending 
more  upon  the  sound  of  words,  which  will 
rhyme  with  the  object  named,  than  on  any  real 
or  fancied  similarity  of  significance  in  their 


28  LANGUAGE      OF     FLOWERS. 

nature  or  properties.  But  what  a  heresy  is  it 
to  call  this  system  of  arbitrary  meanings  the 
"Language  of  Flowers;"  what  a  departure 
from  that  only  true  faith,  the  principal  tenet  of 
which  is  a  firm  and  fervent  belief  in  the  signifi- 
cance of  nature  !  If  God  speaks  in  the  elements 
— and  who  shall  doubt  ? — if  the  winds,  and  the 
waves,  and  the  loud  rattling  thunders,  testify  of 
his  power  and  majesty,  do  not  the  forest  trees 
also,  and  the  grasses  of  the  fields,  and  the 
beautiful  blossoms  which  adorn  like  living 
gems,  the  bosom  of  the  earth, — have  not  these 
voices — voices  of  instruction,  and  reproof,  and 
sympathy,  and  love,  and  "all  that  is  most  gentle 
and  benign  ?  Assuredly  they  have  !  Let  us 
then  look  upon  them  not  as  the  mere  play- 
things of  an  idle  hour, — as  gauds  and  decora- 
tions for  the  frivolous  and  vain,  but  as  something 
too  sacred  to  be  made  the  symbols  of  false 
sentiments,  and  feigned,  or  evil  passions. 

Truly  the  real-"  Language  of  Flowers"  is  no 
system  of  unmeaning  similitudes  ;  there  is  a 
deeper  significance  attached  to  every  plant  and 
flower,  indeed  to  every  object  in  nature,  than 


LANGUAGE     OF     FLOWERS.  29 

the  mere  sensualist  or  the  shallow  sentimentalist 
would  imagine  ;  and  here  are  the  words  of  one 
who  has  studied  them  deeply,  and  knows  that 
they  are  types  and  characters  of  the  glorious 
revelation,  second  only  to  that  direct  one  which 
God  has  given  us  in  the  Bible.  What  says  he: — 

"Listen  to  the  words  of  wisdom, 

Uttered  by  the  tongue  of  truth, 
Tottering  age  and  manly  vigour, 

Listen  ye — and  smiling  youth." — H.  G.  A. 

"  Books  are  great  and  glorious  agents  of  civili- 
zation and  happiness.  They  are  the  silent 
teachers  of  mankind,  filling  the  mind  with 
wisdom,  and  strengthening  the  understanding 
for  the  strife  of  action  ;  making  us  powerful  and 
gentle,  wise  and  humble,  at  the  same  time. 
But  we  cannot  be  always  buried  in  our  books  ; 
we  must  sometimes  go  out  into  the  sunshine, 
and  it  is  necessary,  in  order  to  enjoy  our  books, 
that  we  should  also  enjoy  the  privilege  of  air 
and  light,  drinking  in  health  and  vigor,  to 
enable  us  to  make  the  bggt_and  most  profitable 
use  of  our  sedentary  hours.  In  direct  opposi- 
tion then  to  books,  or  rather  in  secret  combination 
3* 


30  LANGUAGE     OF     FLOWERS. 


with  them,  we  would  place  flowers — the  out-of- 
door  books  Nature  has  so  liberally  provided  for 
us,  in  so  rich  a  variety  of  types  and  bindings, 
as  to  leave  us  no  excuse  for  not  gratifying  all 
our  individual  tastes.  The  lover  of  flowers  has 
this  advantage  over  the  lover  of  books,  that  he 
can  never  be  at  a  loss  for  variety ;  but  we 
suspect  the  classification  is  somewhat  arbitrary, 
and  that  there  is  hardly  any  one  who  loves  the 
one,  who  does  not  also  love  the  other.  The 
best  way  to  enjoy  either  is  to  enjoy  both ;  to 
take  them  alternately,  so  that  they  may  relieve 
and  show  off  each  other  to  the  best  advantage. 
A  walk  in  an  open  field,  and  one  hour  spent  in 
gathering  wild  flowers,  to  be  afterwards  grouped 
into  a  vase  upon  the  library  table,  is  by  no 
means  the  least  suggestive  preparation  for  a 
morning's  reading." — Yes,  and  then,  as  we 
inhale  their  balmy  freshness,  and  look  upon 
their  beautiful  hues,  we  shall  thiuk  of  the  spots 
in  which  we  have  gatherered  them,  and  our 
spirits  will  become  invigorated,  our  thoughts 
more  penetrating,  and  our  minds  strengthened 
for  the  work  before  us. 


HOLY    FLOWERS. 

ET   MART   nOWITT. 

Mindful  of  the  pious  festivals  which  our  church  pre- 
•eribes,  I  have  sought  to  make  these  charming  objects  of 
floral  nature,  the  time-piece*  of  my  religious  calendar,  and 
the  mementoes  of  the  hastening  period  of  my  mortality. 
Thus  I  can  light  the  taper  to  our  Virgin  Mother  on  the 
blowing  of  the  white  snow-drop,  which  opens  its  floweret 
at  the  time  of  Candlemas  ;  the  lady's  smock,  and  the 
daffodil,  remind  me  of  the  Annunciation  ;  the  blue  hare- 
bell, of  the  Festival  of  St.  George  ;  the  ranunculus,  of  the 
Invention  of  the  Cross  ;  the  scarlet  lychnis,  of  St.  John 
the  Baptist's  day  ;  the  white  lily,  of  the  Visitation  of  our 
Lady  ;  and  the  Virgin's  bower,  of  her  Assumption  ;  and 
Michaelmas,  Martinmas,  Holyrood,  and  Christmas,  have 
all  their  appropriate  monitors.  I  leitrn  the  time  of  day 
from  the  shutting  of  the  blossoms  of  the  Star  of  Jerusalem 
and  the  Dandelion,  and  the  hour  of  the  night  by  the  stars. 

A 


Ah  !  simple-hearted  piety, 
In  former  days  such  flowers  could  see. 
The  peasant,  wending  to  his  toil, 
Beheld  them  deck  the  leafy  soil  ; 

31 


32  HOLT     FLOWERS. 

They  sprung  around  his  cottage  door  ; 
He  saw  them  on  the  heathy  moor ; 
Within  the  forest's  twilight  glade, 
Where  the  wild  deer  its  covert  made  ; 
In  the  green  vale  remote  and  still, 
And  gleaming  on  the  ancient  hill. 
The  days  are  distant  now — gone  by 
With  the  old  times  o(  minstrelsy  ; 
When  all  unblest  with  written  lore, 
Were  treasured  up  traditions  hoar ; 
And  each  still  lake  and  mountain  lone, 
Had  a  stern  legend  of  its  own  ; 
And  hall,  and  cot,  and  valley-stream, 
Were  hallowed  by  the  minstrel's  dream. 

Then,  musing  in  the  woodland  nook 
Each  flower  was  as  a  written  book, 
Recalling,  by  memorial  quaint, 
The  holy  deed  of  martyred  saint ; 
The  patient  faith,  which,  unsubdued, 
Grew  mightier,  tried  through  fire  and  blood. 
One  blossom,  'mid  its  leafy  shade, 
The  virgin's  purity  portrayed  ; 
And  one,  with  cup  all  crimson  dyed, 
Spoke  of  a  Saviour  crucified  ; 


HOLY     FLOWER  8.  33 

And  rich  the  store  of  holy  thought 

That  little  forest  flower  brought, 

Doctrine  and  miracle,  whate'er 

We  draw  from  books,  was  treasured  there. 

Faith,  in  the  wild  woods  tangled  bound, 

A  blessed  heritage  had  found  ; 

And  Charity  and  Hope  were  seen 

In  the  lone  isle,  and  wild  ravine. 

Then  pilgrims,  through  the  forest  brown, 

Slow  journeying  on  from  town  to  town, 

Halting  'mong  mosses  green  and  dank, 

Breathed  each  a  prayer  before  he  drank 

From  waters  by  the  pathway  side  ; 

Then  duly  morn,  and  eventide, 

Before  those  ancient  crosses  grey, 

Now  mould'ring  silently  away, 

Aged  and  young  devoutly  bent 

In  simple  prayer — how  eloquent ! 

For  each  good  gift  man  then  possessed 

Demanded  blessing,  and  was  blest. 

What  though  in  our  pride's  selfish  mood 
We  hold  those  times  as  dark  and  rude, 
Yet  give  we,  from  our  wealth  of  mind, 
More  grateful  feeling,  or  refined  ? 


34  HOLT     FLOWERS. 


And  yield  \ve  unto  Nature  aught 
Of  loftier,  or  of  holier  thought, 
Than  they  who  gave  sublimest  power 
To  the  small  spring,  and  simple  flower  ? 


THE   WATER    LILIES. 

There's  a  spring  in  the  woods  by  my  sunny 

home, 

Afar  from  the  dark  sea's  tossing  foam  ; 
Oh  !  the  fall  of  that  fountain  is  sweet  to  hear, 
As  a  song  from  the  shore  to  the  sailor's  ear  ! 
And  the  sparkle  which  up  to  the  sun  it  throws 
Through  the  feathery  fern  and  the  olive  boughs 
And  the  gleam  on  its  path  as  its  steals  away 
Into  deeper  shade  from  the  sultry  day  ; 
And  the  large  Water-lilies  that  o'er  its  bed, 
Their  pearly  leaves  to  the  soft  light  spread  ; 
These  haunt  me  ;  I  dream  of  that  bright  spring's 

flow, 
I  thirst  for  its  rills  like  a  wounded  roe. 

MRS.  HEMANS. 


THE  ALBANIAN  LOVE-LETTER. 

BY    LEIGII    HUNT. 

An  exquisite  invention  this, 

Worthy  of  Love's  most  honied  kiss, 

This  art  of  writing  billet-doux 

In  buds,  and  odors,  and  bright  hues, — 

In  saying  all  one  feels  and  thinks, 

In  clever  daffodils  and  pinks, 

Uttering  (as  well  as  silence  may) 

The  sweetest  words  the  sweetest  way  : 

How  fit,  too,  for  the  lady's  bosom, 

The  place  where  billet-doux  repose  'em. 

How  charming  in  some  rural  spot, 
Combining  love  with  garden  plot, 
At  once  to  cultivate  one's  flowers 
And  one's  epistolary  powers, 
Growing  one's  own  choice  words  and  fancies 
In  orange  tubs  and  beds  of  pansies  ; 
One's  sighs  and  passionate  declarations 
In  odorous  rhet'ric  of  carnations  ; 

35 


36      THE  ALBANIAN  LOVE  LETTER. 

Seeing  how  far  one's  stock  will  reach ; 
Taking  due  care  one's  flowers  of  speech 
To  guard  from  blight  as  well  as  bathos, 
And  watering,  every  day,  one's  pathos. 

A  letter  comes  just  gathered,  we 

Doat  on  its  tender  brilliancy  ; 

Inhale  its  delicate  expression 

Of  balm  and  pea  ;  and- its  confession, 

Made  with  as  sweet  a  maiden  blush 

As  ever  morn  bedew'd  in  bush  ; 

And  then,  when  we  have  kissed  its  wit, 

And  heart,  in  water  putting  it, 

To  keep  its  remarks  fresh,  go  round 

Our  little  eloquent  plot  of  ground  ; 

And  with  delighted  hands  compose 

Our  answer,  all  of  lily  and  rose, 

Of  tuberose  and  of  violet, 

And  little  darling  (mignionette)  ; 

And  gratitude  and  polyanthus, 

And  flowers  that  say,  <•'  Felt  never  man  thus !" 


J 


THE    FLOWER    GIRL. 

BY   MBS.    CORBOLD. 

Come  buy,  come  buy  my  mystic  flowers, 
All  ranged  with  due  consideration, 

And  culled  in  fancy's  fairy  bowers, 
To  suit  each  age  and  every  station. 

For  those  who  late  in  life  would  tarry, 
I've  Snowdrops,  winter's  children  cold  ; 

And  those  who  seek  for  wealth  to  marry 
May  buy  the  flaunting  Marigold. 

I've  Ragwort,  Ragged  Robins,  too, 

Cheap  flowers  for  those  of  low  condition  ; 

For  Bachelors  I've  Buttons  blue  ; 
And  Crown  Imperials  for  ambition. 

For  sportsmen  keen,  who  range  the  lea, 

I've  Pheasant's  Eye,  and  sprigs  of  Heather  ; 

For  courtiers  with  the  supple  knee, 
I've  Parasites  and  Prince's- Feather. 
4  37 


38  THE     FLOWER     GIRL. 

For  thin,  tall  fops,  I  keep  the  Bush, 

For  peasants  still  am  Nightshade  weeding  ; 

For  rakes,  I've  Devil-in-the-Bush, 
For  sighing  Strephons,  Love-lies-Bleeding. 

But  fairest  blooms  affection's  hand 
For  constancy  and  worth  disposes, 

And  gladly  weaves  at  your  command, 
A  wreath  of  Jlmaranths  and  Roses. 


THE    BUD    OF    THE    ROSE, 

Her  raouth,  which  a  smile, 
Devoid  of  all  guile, 
Half  opened  to  view, 
Is  the  bud  of  the  rose, 
In  the  morning  that  blows, 
Impearled  with  the  dew. 
More  fragrant  her  breath 
Than  the  flower-scented  heath 
At  the  dawning  of  day  ; 
The  lily's  perfume, 
The  hawthorn  in  bloom, 
Or  the  blossoms  of  May. 


FORGET    ME    NOT. 

BLOSSOMS  more  rich  and  rare  than  thou 
May  twine  round  Beauty's  graceful  brow 

In  moods  of  sunny  mirth  ; 
The  Rose's  or  the  Myrtle's  flower 
Might  more  beseem  her  festive  hour, 
And  give,  in  Pleasure's  careless  bower, 

To  brighter  fancies  birth. 

But  in  those  moments,  sad,  yet  dear, 
When  parting  wakes  Affection's  tear, 

Thy  stainless  blossom's  braid, 
Whose  tuaat  forbid*  us  to  forget, 
Would  be  the  chosen  coronet 
Love  on  the  loveliest  brow  would  set 

To  crave  fond  Memory's  aid. 

When  "  earth  to  earth,"  and  "  dust  to  dust," 
The  lov'd,  lamented,  we  entrust, 

What  flower  may  grace  the  spot 
Where  sleep  the  reliques  of  the  dead,        * 

39 


40  FORGET-ME-NOT. 

For  whom  the  frequent  tear  is  shed, 
Like  thine — which,  from  the  grave's  cold  bed, 
Repeats  "  Forget  me  not !" 

Yet  not  in  pensive  moods  alone 
Thy  heart-appalling  name  we  own 

To  love,  to  friendship  dear  ; 
Were  not  that  name  with  joy  combin'd, 
Were  not  thy  bright  blue  blossoms  twin'd 
With  hopes  as  bright — thou  wouldst  not  find 

An  honour'd  station  here. 

Not  in  our  volume's  opening  leaf 
Should  flowers  which  only  imag'd  grief 

A  mournful  emblem  stand  ; 
For  unforgetting  Love  ;  whose  light 
Makes  even  sorrow's  clouds  look  bright, 
In  joy  and  hope,  with  magic  might, 

The  feeling  can  expand. 

And  therefore  would  we  place  thee  here, 
Symbol  of  hopes  the  heart  holds  dear, 

In  every  clime  and  age  ; 
Thoughts  lov'd  in  sunshine  or  in  gloom 


FOROET-ME-NOT.  41 

Priz'd  from  the  cradle  to  the  tomb, 
Prompt  us  to  wreathe  thy  azure  bloom 
To  deck  our  opening  page. 

Here,  then,  'mid  pointed  leaves  of  green, 
Be  thy  cerulean  blossoms  seen, 

To  grace  our  garden-plot ; 
Nor  would  we  prouder  flowers  entwine 
Round  Friendship's  or  Affection's  shrine, 
Than  one  which  can  recall,  like  thine, 

The  words  "  FORGET  ME  NOT  !" 


LOVE    IN    A    ROSE-BUD. 

A     FRAGMENT. 
BT   COLERIDGE. 

As  late  each  flower  that  sweetest  blows 
I  plucked,  the  garden  pride ; 

Within  the  petals  of  a  rose 
A  sleeping  love  I  spied. 

Around  his  brows  a  beamy  wreath 

Of  many  a  lucent  hue  ; 
All  purple  glowed  his  cheek  beneath, 

Inebriate  with  dew. 

4* 


TO   A    DAISY. 

BY     WORDSWORTH. 

BRIGHT  flower,  whose  home  is  every  where  ! 

A  pilgrim  bold  in  Nature's  care, 

And  oft,  the  long  year  through,  the  heir 

Of  joy  or  sorrow ; 
Methinks  that  there  abides  in  thee 
Some  concord  with  humanity, 
Given  to  no  other  flower  I  see 

The  forest  through ! 

And  wherefore  ?  Man  is  soon  deprest ; 
A  thoughtless  thing  who,  once  unblest, 
Does  little  on  his  memory  rest, 

Or  on  his  reason  : 

But  thou  wouldst  teach  him  how  to  find 
A  shelter  under  every  wind  ; 
A  hope  for  times  that  are  unkind, 

And  every  season. 

42 


TO  A   BUNCH   OF   FLOWERS. 

BY    BEV.    JAMES    F.    CLARKE. 

LITTLE  firstlings  of  the  year  ! 
Have  you  come  my  room  to  cheer  ? 
You  are  dry  and  parched,  I  think  ; 
Stand  within  this  glass  and  drink  ; 
Stand  beside  me  on  the  table, 
'Mong  my  books — if  I  am  able, 
I  will  find  a  vacant  space 
For  your  bashfulness  and  grace  ; 
Learned  tasks  and  serious  duty 
Shall  be  lightened  by  your  beawty. 
Pure  affection's  sweetest  token, 
Choicest  hint  of  love  unspoken, 
Friendship  in  your  help  rejoices, 
Uttering  her  mysterious  voices. 
You  are  gifts  the  poor  may  offer — 
Wealth  can  find  not  better  proffer : 
For  you  tell  of  tastes  refined, 
Thoughtful  heart  and  spirit  kind. 

43 


44  TO     A     BUNCH     OF     FLOWERS. 

Gift  of  gold  or  jewel  dresses, 

Ostentation's  thought  confesses  ; 

Simplest  mind  this  boon  may  give, 

Modesty  herself  receive. 

For  lovely  woman  you  were  meant 

The  just  and  natural  ornament, 

Sleeping  on  her  bosom  fair, 

Hiding  in  her  raven  hair,  ^ 

Or,  peeping  out  mid  golden  curls, 

You  outshine  barbaric  pearls  ; 

Yet  you  lead  no  thought  astray, 

Feed  not  pride  nor  vain  display, 

Nor  disturb  her  sisters'  rest, 

Waking  envy  in  their  breast. 

Let  the  rich,  with  heart  elate, 

Pile  their  board  with  costly  plate  ; 

Richer  ornaments  are  ours, 

Wo  will  dress  our  home  with  flowers  ; 

Yet  no  terror  need  we  feel 

Lest  the  thief  break  through  to  steal. 

Ye  are  playthings  for  the  child, 

Gifts  of  love  for  maiden  mild, 

Comfort  for  the  aged  eye, 

For  the  poor,  cheap  luxury. 


TO     A     BUNCH     OF     FLOWERS.  45 

Though  your  life  is  but  a  day 
Precious  things,  dear  flowers,  you  say, 
Telling  that  the  Being  good 
Who  supplies  our  daily  food, 
Deems  it  needful  to  supply 
Daily  food  for  heart  and  eye. 
So,  though  your  life  is  but  a  day, 
We  grieve  not  at  your  swift  decay  ; 
He,  who  smiles  in  your  bright  faces, 
Sends  us  more  to  take  your  places  ; 
'Tis  for  this  ye  fade  so  soon, 
That  he  may  renew  the  boon  : 
That  kindness  often  may  repeat 
These  mute  messages  so  sweet : 
That  Love  to  plainer  speech  may  get, 
Conning  oft  his  alphabet ; 
That  beauty  may  be  rain'd  from  heaven, 
New  with  every  morn  and  even, 
With  freshest  fragrance  sunrise  greeting  : 
Therefore  are  ye,  flowers,  so  fleeting. 


THE    VIOLET. 

VIOLETS  ! — deep-blue  violets  ! 

April's  loveliest  coronets  ! 

There  are  no  flowers  grow  in  the  vale, 

Kissed  by  the  dew,  wooed  by  the  gale, — 

None  by  the  dew  of  the  twilight  wet, 

So  sweet  as  the  deep-blue  violet ! 

I  do  remember  how  sweet  a  breath 

Came  with  the  azure  light  of  a  wreath 

That  hung  round  the  wild  harp's  golden  chords, 

Which  rang  to  my  dark-eyed  lover's  words. 

I  hare  seen  that  dear  harp  rolled 

With  gems  of  the  East  and  bands  of  gold ; 

But  it  never  was  sweeter  than  when  set 

With  leaves  of  the  deep-blue  violet ! 

And  when  the  grave  shall  open  for  me, — 

I  care  not  how  soon  that  time  may  be, — 

Never  a  rose  shall  grow  on  that  tomb, 

It  breathes  too  much  of  hope  and  of  bloom  ; 

But  there  be  that  flower's  meek  regret, 

The  bending  and  deep-blue  violet ! 
46 


LINE  S 

SUGGESTED     BY    THE    SIGHT     OF     SOME     LATE     ACTUMH 
FLOWEES. 

THESE  few  pale  Autumn  flowers, 

How  beautiful  they  are  ! 
Than  all  that  went  before, 
Than  all  the  summer  store, 

How  lovelier  far  ! 

And  why  ?  they  are  the  last ! 

The  last !  the  last !  the  last 
Oh  !  by  that  little  word 
How  many  thoughts  are  stirred, 

That  whisper  of  the  past ! 

Pale  flowers  !  pale  perishing  flowers, 

Ye're  types  of  precious  things  ; 
Types  of  those  better  moments 
That  flit,  like  Life's  enjoyments, 
On  rapid,  rapid  wings. 

47 


48 


Last  hours  with  parting  dear  ones 
(That  time  the  fastest  spends)  ; 

Last  tears  in  silence  shed  ; 

Last  words  half  uttered  ; 
Last  looks  of  dying  friends. 

Who  but  would  fain  compress 

A  life  into  a  day, — 
The  last  day  spent  with  one 
Who,  ere  to-morrow's  sun, 

Must  leave  us,  and  for  aye  ! 

0  precious,  precious  moments, 

Pale  flowers  ;  ye're  types  of  those  ; 
The  saddest,  sweetest,  dearest, 
Because,  like  those,  the  nearest, 

To  an  eternal  close. 

Pale  flowers  !  pale  perishing  flowers  ! 
I  woo  your  gentle  breath  ; 

1  leave  the  summer  rose 
For  younger,  blither  brows  ; 

Tell  me  of  change  and  death  ' 

ANON, 


THE     HONEYSUCKLE. 

« 

BY   THE   COUNTESS    OF   BLESSIXGTON. 

SEE  the  honeysuckle  twine 
Round  this  casement : — 'tis  a  shrine 
Where  the  heart  doth  incense  give, 
And  the  pure,  affections  live 
In  the  mother's  gentle  breast 
By  her  smiling  infant  press'd. 

Blessed  shrinu  !  dear,  blissful  home  ! 
Source  whence  happiness  doth  come  ! 
Round  by  the  cheerful  hearth  \ve  meet 
All  things  beauteous — all  thing  sweet — 
Every  solace  of  man's  life, 
Mother,  daughter — sister — wife  ! 

5  49 


50  THE     HONEYSUCKLE. 

England,  isle  of  free  and  brave, 
Circled  by  the  Atlantic  wave  ! 
Though  we  seek  the  fairest  land 
That  the  south  wind  ever  fann'd, 
Yet  we  cannot  hope  to  see 
Homes  so  holy  as  in  thee. 

As  the  tortoise  turns  its  head 
Towards  its  native  ocean-bed, 
Howsoever  far  it  be 
From  its  own  beloved  sea, 
Thus,  dear  Albion,  evermore 
Do  we  turn  to  seek  thy  shore ' 


'HE    ROSE-BUD. 

BY    KKEBLE. 

WHEN  Nature  tries  her  finest  touch, 

Weaving  her  vernal  wreath, 
Mark  ye,  how  close  she  veils  her  round, 
Not  to  be  traced  by  sight  or  sound, 
Nor  soiled  by  ruder  breath  ! 

Who  ever  saw  the  earliest  rose 
First  open  her  sweet  breast  ? 
Or,  when  the  summer  sun  goes  down, 
The  first  soft  star  in  evening's  crown 
Light  up  her  gleaming  crest? 

Fondly  we  seek  the  dawning  bloom 

On  features  \van  and  fair — 
The  gazing  eye  no  change  can  trace, 
But  look  away  a  little  space, 

Then  turn,  and  lo  !  'tis  there. 

51 


52  THEROSE-BUD. 

But  there's  a  sweeter  flower  than  e'er 

Blushed  on  the  rosy  spray — 
A  brighter  star,  a  richer  bloom 
Than  e'er  did  western  heaven  illume 
At  close  of  summer  day. 

'Tis  love,  the  last  best  gift  of  heaven  ; 

Love — gentle,  holy,  pure  : 
But  tenderer  than  a  dove's  soft  eye, 
The  searching  sun,  the  open  sky, 

She  never  could  endure. 

Even  human  love  will  shrink  from  sight 

Here  in  the  coarse  rude  earth  : 
How  then  should  rash  intruding  glance 
Break  in  upon  her  sacred  trance, 
Who  boasts  a  heavenly  birth  ? 

So  still  and  secret  is  her  growth, 

Ever  the  truest  heart, 
Where  deepest  strikes  her  kindly  root 
For  hope  or  joy,  for  flower  or  fruit, 

Least  known  its  happy  part. 


TUB      ROSE-BUD. 


63 


God  only,  and  good  angels,  look 

Behind  the  blissful  screen — 
As  when,  triumphant  o'er  his  woes, 
The  Son  of  God,  by  moonlight  rose, 

By  all  but  Heaven  unseen  : 

As  when  the  holy  maid  beheld 

Her  risen  Son  and  Lord  : 
Thought  has  not  colors  half  so  fair 
That  she  to  paint  that  hour  may  dare, 

In  silence  best  adored. 

The  gracious  Dove,  that  brougnt  from  heaven 

The  earnest  of  our  bliss, 
Of  many  a  chosen  witness  telling, 
On  many  a  happy  vision  dwelling, 

Sings  not  a  note  of  this. 

So,  truest  image  of  the  Christ, 

Old  Israel's  long-lost  Son, 
What  time,  with  sweet  forgiving  cheer, 
He  called  his  conscious  brethren  near, 

Would  weep  with  them  alone. 
5* 


54  T  H  E      R  0  S  E  -  B  U  D. 

He  could  not  trust  his  melting  soul 

But  in  his  Maker's  sight — 
Then  why  should  gentle  hearts  and  true 
Bare  to  the  rude  world's  withering  view 
Their  treasures  of  delight  ? 

No — let  the  dainty  rose  awhile 

Her  bashful  fragrance  hide — 
Rend  not  her  silken  veil  too  soon, 
But  leave  her,  in  her  own  soft  noon, 
To  flourish  and  abide. 


THE    SUNFLOWER. 

BY   THOMPSON. 

Who  can  unpitying  see  the  flow'ry  race 
Shed  by  the  moon  their  new  flush'd  bloom  resign 
Before  the  parching  beam  ?   so  fades  the  face, 
When  fevers  revel  through  their  azure  veins. 
But  one  the  lofty  follower  of  the  sun, 
Sad  when  he  sits,  shuts  up  her  yellow  leaves, 
Drooping  all  night,  and  when  he  warm  returns 
Points  her  enamour'd  bosom  to  his  ray. 


THE   MOSS    ROSE. 

FROM  THK  GERMAN. 
BY  fr.  B. 

THE  Angel  of  the  flowers  one  day, 

Beneath  a  rose-tree  sleeping  lay  ; 

That  spirit  to  whom  charge  is  given 

To  bathe  young  buds  in  dews  of  Heaven  ; 

Awaking  from  his  light  repose, 

The  angel  whispered  to  the  rose  : — 

"  Oh,  fondest  object  of  my  care, 

Still  fairest  found,  where  all  is  fair  ; 

For  the  sweet  shade  thou  giv'st  to  me, 

Ask  what  thou  wilt,  'tis  granted  thee !" 

"  Then,"  said  the  rose,  with  deepen'd  glow, 

"  On  me  another  grace  bestow." 

The  spirit  paused  in  silent  thought : 

What  grace  was  there  the  flower  had  not? 

'Twas  but  a  moment — o'er  the  rose 
A  veil  of  moss  the  angel  throws  ; 
Anil  robed  in  Nature's  simplest  weed, 
Could  there  a  flower  that  rose  exceed  ? 

55 


MORAL    OF    FLOWERS. 


"  Not  a  tree, 

A  plant,  a  leaf,  a  blossom  but  contains 
A  folio  volume.    We  may  read,  and  read, 
And  read  again,  and  still  find  something  new, 
Something  to  please,  and  something  to  instruct, 
E'en  in  th«  noisome  weed." — HURDIS. 

FLOWERS  have  been,  to  the  poets  of  all  ages, 
and  in  all  countries,  a  never-failing  source  of 
inspiration,  and  to  mankind  at  large,  "  a  joy,  a 
pure  delight,"  from  the  creation  even  to  the 
present  time  ;  and  will  be  so,  while  we  have 
eyes  to  see,  and  hearts  to  understand  and  ap- 
preciate the  blessings  that  are  scattered  around 
us,  for,  as  KEATS  says  : — 

"  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  for  ever ; 
Its  loveliness  increases;  it  will  never 
Pass  into  nothingness;  but  still  will  keep 
A  bower  quiet  for  us,  and  a  sleep 
Full  of  sweet  dreams  and  health. 
56 


MORAL     OF     FLOWERS. 

And  is  not  a  Flower  "  a  thing  of  beauty  ?" — 
is  it  not  a  thing  of  surpassing  loveliness  ?  Who 
can  gaze  on  its  exquisitely  perfect  form,  its  un- 
rivalled brilliancy  of  hue,  without  a  thrill  of 
admiration,  and  a  sensation  of  pleasure  ? — 
pleasure  which  passeth  not  away,  but  dwelleth 
on  the  memory  like  a  pleasant  perfume,  that 
remains  long  after  the  object  from  whence  it 
emanated  has  perished;  and  why  is  this? 
because  of  its  purity,  its  freedom  from  aught 
that  is  gross  and  therefore  perishable.  None, 
we  venture  to  aver,  can  gaze  on  those  beautiful 
"  alphabets  of  creation,"  those  adorners  of 
earth's  bosom,  unmoved,  but  such  as  have  hearts 
utterly  corrupted,  and  rendered  impervious  tc 
every  sweet  and  gentle  impression ;  and  even 
such  will  at  times  feel  stirring  within  them  at 
the  sight,  thoughts  that  have  long  slumbered, 
and  awakened  by  those  "  silent  monitors,"  the 
"still  small  voice  of  conscience"  is  heard,  in- 
citing them  to  shake  off  the  trammels  of  guilt, 
and  return  to  the  ways  of  pleasantness  and 
peace,  wherein  their  feet  once  trod,  when — 


68  ,  MORAL      OF      FLOWERS. 

"  The  flowers  in  silence  seemed  to  breathe 
Such  thoughts  as  language  could  not  tell." — BYROX. 

We  have  called  the  flowers  "silent  monitors," 
and  not  unadvisedly,  for  many  are  the  lessons 
they  teach,  of  patient  submission,  meek  endu- 
rance, and  innocent  cheerfulness  under  the 
pressure  of  adverse  circumstances  : — 

"  They  smilingly  fulfil 

Their  Maker's  will, 
All  meekly  bending  'neath  the  tempest's  weight 

By  pride  unvisited, 

Though  richly  raimented, 
As  is  a  monarch  in  his  robes  of  state." — H.  G.  A. 

Many  are  the  moral  precepts  they  inculcate, 
bidding  us  admire  the  wisdom  of  their  Omnipo- 
tent Creator,  in  their  infinite  variety  of  forms 
and  colors,  and  perfect  adaptation  to  the  situa- 
tions they  occupy  : — 

"Not  a  flower 

But  shows  some  touch,  in  freckle,  streak,  or  stain, 
Of  His  unrivall'd  pencil.     He  inspires 
Their  balmy  odors,  and  imparts  their  hues, 
And  bathes  their  eyes  with  nectar,  and  includes 
In  grains  as  countless  as  the  sea-side  sands, 
The  forms  with  which  He  sprinkles  all  the  earth." — 

COWPER. 


MORAL     OF     FLOWERS.  69 

Telling  us  to  be  grateful  for  these  abundant 
manifestations  of  His  attention,  not  only  to  our 
actual  wants  and  necessities,  but  also  to  our 
comforts  and  enjoyments  ;  opening  to  us  this 
source  of  pure  and  innocent  gratification,  in 
order  to  strengthen  us  against  the  allurements 
of  foliy,  and  wean  our  hearts  from  the  guilty 
pleasures  of  sensuality,  into  which  they  are 
but  too  apt  to  be  drawn  : — 

"  God  might  have  bade  the  earth  hring  forth 

Enough  for  great  and  small, 
The  oak-tree  and  the  cedar-tree, 

Without  a  flower  at  all. 
He  might  have  made  enough,  enough, 

For  every  want  of  ours, 
For  luxury,  medicine,  and  toil, 

And  yet  have  made  no  flowers. 


Our  outward  life  requires  them  not, 

Then  wherefore  had  they  birth  ? — 
To  minister  delight  to  man, 

To  beautify  the  earth ; 
To  whisper  hope — to  comfort  man 

Whene'er  his  faith  is  dim, 
For  whoso  careth  for  the  flowers 

Will  care  much  more  for  him !" — MART  HOWTTT. 


60  MORAL     OF     FLOWERS. 

Do  they  not  also  admonish  us  of  the  insta- 
bility of  earthly  grandeur  and  beauty,  by  their 
fragility  and  shortness  of  duration  ?  saying  in 
the  language  of  the  Psalmist : — As  for  man, 
his  days  are  as  grass,  as  a  flower  of  the  field,  so 
he  flourisheth  ;  for  the  wind  passeth  over  it  and 
it  is  gone ;  and  the  place  thereof  shall  know  it 
no  more."  They  teach  us  the  utter  foolishness 
of  that  pride,  which  delighteth  in  personal 
adornments  and  gaudy  trappings  ;  for  be  our 
dress  ever  so  rich,  the  simplest  flowers  of  the 
field,  that  neither  toil  nor  spin,  are  arrayed 
much  more  sumptuously  : — 

"Along  the  sunny  bank  or  watery  mead, 
Ten  thousand  stalks  their  various  blossoms  spread: 
Peaceful  and  lowly,  in  their  native  soil, 
They  neither  know  to  spin,  nor  care  to  toil, 
Yet,  with  confessed  magnificene,  deride 
Our  vile  attire  and  impotence  of  pride." — PRIOR. 

It  is  thus  they  admonish  the  prosperous,  the 
proud,  the  uplifted  in  spirit ;  but  to  the  poor, 
the  lowly,  and  the  fallen,  they  are  as  sympa- 
thizing friends,  whispering  words  of  comfort 
and  hope,  sharing  their  sorrows,  and  thus  ren- 


MORAL     OF     FLOWERS.  Cl 

dering  the  burden  easier  to  bear.  And  by 
making  them  participators  in  our  grief,  we  lose 
that  painful  sense  of  loneliness  and  desolation 
which  ever  accompanies  the  blighting  of  our 
earthly  prospects,  and  consequent  desertion  of 
friends,  (falsely  so  called)  ;  our  minds  are  in- 
sensibly drawn  to  the  contemplation  of  His 
infinite  goodness  and  mercy,  who  ordaineth  all 
things  for  the  best,  and  sufFereth  not  a  sparrow 
to  fall  to  the  ground,  nor  a  hair  of  our  heads 
to  perish,  unnoted. 

We  reflect  on  the  many  blessings  He  hath 
vouchsafed  us,  all  undeserving  as  we  are,  and 
taught  by  the  example  of  the  Flowers,  whose 
tiny  hands  are  ever  clasped  in  adoration,  whose 
breath  is  ever  exhaled  as  an  offering  of  praise 
to  the  footstool  of  their  Maker,  we  become  re- 
signed, nay,  even  cheerful,  and  prompted  by 
feelings  of  gratitude,  our  thoughts  involuntarily 
shape  themselves  into  words  of  a  like  significa- 
tion to  the  following  : — 

"  0  flowers  that  breathe  of  beauty's  reign, 

In  many  a  tint  o'er  lawn  and  lea, 
And  give  the  cold  heart  once  again 
A  dream  of  happier  infancy  ; 
0 


62  MORAL     OF     FLOWERS. 


And  even  on  the  grave  can  be 
A  spell  to  weed  affection's  pain — 

Children  of  Eden,  who  could  see, 
Nor  own  His  bounty  in  your  reign !" — 

AXXETTE  TURXER. 

Yes  !  silent  monitors  though  they  be,  they 
are  not  voiceless,  but  gifted  with  an  eloquence 
divine  that  appeals  alike  to  the  heart  and  to  the 
understanding;  and  would  we  but  hearken  to 
their  preaching,  our  bosoms  would  become  as 
well-springs  of  mutual  piety — peace  and  good 
fellowship  would  prevail  upon  earth,  and  men 
would  be  no  more  shedders  of  each  other's 
blood,  and  perpetrators  of  the  blackest  crimes  ; 
but,  alas  ! 

"Many  in  this  dim  world  of  cares, 
Have  sat  with  angels  unawares." — T.  K.  HKRVEY. 

And  few,  very  few  are  they,  who  can  behold 
the  bright  countenances  of  heaven's  messengers, 
and  listen  to  their  discourse  with  an  under- 
standing spirit,  for  ambition  and  avarice,  and 
pride,  have  obscured  our  powers  of  vision,  and 
choked  up  the  avenues  to  that  treasure-house 


MORAL      OF      FLOWERS.  63 

wherein  lie  hid  our  finer  sensibilities  and  aspi- 
rations after  the  only  intrinsic  good  : — 

"  The  world  is  too  much  with  us;  late  and  soon, 
Getting  and  spending  we  lay  waste  our  powers, 
Little  we  see  in  nature  that  is  ours  ; 
We  have  given  our  hearts  away,  a  sordid  boon  !" — 

WOUDSWOIITH. 

But  let  us  tear  the  film  from  before  our  eyes. 
Let  us  endeavor  to  eradicate  from  our  bosoms, 
envy,  hatred,  and  all  evil  passions.  Let  us 
practise  meekness  and  charity,  and,  as  far  as  in 
us  lies,  obey  those  holy  impulses  and  .divine 
incitements,  which  the  Maker  has  implanted  in 
every  human  breast,  and  thus  furnished  us  with 
the  means  of  working  out  our  moral  improve- 
ment, if  we  do  not  ungratefully  reject  what  is 
intended  for  our  benefit : — 

"  There  is  a  lesson  in  each  flower, 
A  story  in  each  stream  and  bower; 
In  every  herb  on  which  you  tread, 
Are  written  words,  which  rightly  read, 
Will  lead  you  from  earth's  fragrant  sod, 
To  hope,  and  holiness,  and  God." — ALLAN  CUNNINGHAM. 

Let   us  then    peruse    those   lessons  ;  let   us 


G4  MORAL     OF     FLOWERS. 


'*  read,  mark,  learn,  and  inwardly  digest"  those 
"  written  words,"  so  shall  we  profit  thereby, 
and  lay  up  in  our  hearts  treasures  whose  value 
is  far  above  that  of  silver  and  gold — more 
precious  than  jewels  from  Golconda's  mines ; 
treasures  which  neither  moth  nor  rust  may 
corrupt,  nor  thieves  break  in  and  steal. 

"  Flowers,  the  sole  luxury  that  nature  knew, 

In  Eden's  pure  and  spotless  garden  grew, 

Gay  without  toil,  and  lovely  without  art, 

They  spring  to  cheer  the  sense,  and  glad  the  human  heart." 

Hear  this,  Oh,  man  of  many  sorrows  ! — thou 
whose  hopes  are  blighted,  and  on  whose  mind 
grief  sits,  like  an  incubus,  repressing  all  cheerful 
thoughts,  and  sinking  it  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  gulph  of  despair  ; — hear  the  words  of  one 
who  was  like  thyself,  a  child  of  misfortune — 
"  the  melancholy  COWLEY" — but  who  yet  from 
the  midst  of  the  gloom  that  surrounded  him, 
could  see  the  beneficence  of  the  Almighty  in 
his  works,  and  draw  consolation  therefrom. 
Oh,  shake  off  thy  despondency  !  and  go  forth 
rejoicing  that — to  use  the  words  of  BASIL  HALL, 


MORAL     OF     FLOWERS.  65 

— "  Nature  has  scattered  around  us  on  every 
side,  and  for  every  sense,  an  inexhaustible  pro- 
fusion of  beauty  and  sweetness,  if  we  will  but 
perceive  it;"  for — to  continue  the  same  writer 
— «  The  pleasures  we  derive  from  flowers,  from 
musical  sounds,  and  the  forms-  of  trees,  are 
surely  not  given  us  in  vain,  and  if  we  are  con- 
stantly alive  to  these,  we  can  never  be  in  want 
of  subjects  of  agreeable  contemplation,  and  must 
be  habitually  cheerful."  Yes  most  assuredly — 

"God  made  the  flowers  to  beautify 
The  earth,  and  cheer  man's  careful  mood, 
And  he  is  happiest  who  hath  power 
To  gather  wisdom  from  a  flower, 
And  wake  his  heart  in  every  hour 

To  pleasant  gratitude." — WORDSWORTH. 

It  is  only  in  contemplations  such  as  these, 
that  we  can  hope  to  obtain  true  happiness ;  the 
feverish  joys  of  the  world  are  short-Jived  and 
unsatisfactory ;  like  gilded  dreams  that  haunt 
the  sick  man's  couch,  making  his  waking  hours 
more  painful  from  the  contrast,  they  are  ever 
mingled  with  alloys ;  it  is  a  poisoned  chalice 
from  which  we  drink  the  enchanted  potion  : — 
6* 


GG  MORAL     OF     FLOWERS. 

the  roses  that  adorn  the  garland  of  pleasure  are 
not  unaccompanied  by  thorns,  which  lacerate 
the  brows  of  the  wearers,  and  leave  thereon 
indelible  scars  :-* 

"Alas    the  joys  that  fortune  brings 
Are  trifling,  and  decay." — GOLDSMITH. 

Ambition  !  what  is  it  but  a  splendid  vision  ? — 
a  gorgeous  structure  built  by  him  who  rears 
his  house  upon  the  sands,  where  the  waves  are 
constantly  sapping  its  foundation.  Pride  !  will 
pride  uphold  the  sinking  heart  in  the  hour  of 
affliction  ?  true,  it  will  not  bend,  but  it  will  break; 
then  woe  to  the  poor  wretch  who  depends  on  it 
for  support.  Even  as  a  stormy  ocean  whose 
billows  are  ever  swelling  and  foaming,  ready  to 
engulph  those  who  venture  on  its  bosom. 

"  I  heard  a  thousand  blended  notes, 

AVhile  in  a  grove  I  sate  reclined, 
In  that  sweet  mood  when  pleasant  thoughts 

Bring  sad  thoughts  to  the  mind. 
To  her  fair  works  did  Nature  link 

The  human  soul  that  through  me  ran; 
And  much  it  grieved  my  heart  to  think 

What  man  has  made  of  man. 


MO  KAL     OF     FLOWER  8.  67 

Through  primrose  tufts,  in  that  sweet  bower, 
The  periwinkle  trailed  its  wreaths; 

And  'tit  i/iy  fuith  that  every  jJoirer 

Enj»y*  the  air  it  breathes." — WORDSWORTH. 

Oh  !  what  a  world  of  delightful  thoughts  and 
sensations  are  opened  to  us  by  these  exquisite 
lines;  how  mighty  are  they  to  subdue  every 
stormy  passion,  and  soften  the  asperities  of  our 
nature;  how  humanizing  is  their  influence  upon 
the  mind  ;  again  and  again  they  recur  to  us,  like  a 
sweet  echo,  until  we  are  melted  even  to  tears  ; 
— the  rock  is  smitten,  and  gives  forth  its  gushing 
waters ;  the  arid  desert "  blossoms  like  the  rose !" 
We  reflect  on  «  what  man  has  made  of  man," 
and  resolve  henceforward  to  use  our  utmost 
endeavors  to  relieve  the  load  of  human  misery, 
for  the  creed  which  teaches  that  "  every  flower 
enjoys  the  air  it  breathes,"  while  drawing 
neaier  to  those  radiant  peoplers  of  creation, 
stirs,  as  it  were  by  electricity,  the  golden  links 
of  that  sympathetic  chain  which  binds  us  to  our 
fellow  men,  calling  fopth  all  our  kindliest 
feelings,  and  prompting  us  to  acts  of  love. 
Yes!  beautiful  and  radiant  creatures!  as  ye 


68  MORAL     OF     FLOWERS. 

are  the  "  visible  tokens  of  the  upholding  Love  !" 
so  are  ye  gifted  with  faculties  and  perceptions 
to  know  and  understand  the  errand  of  mercy 
on  which  ye  are  sent,  and  to  rejoice  in  being 
made  the  instruments  of  divine  bounty  and 
goodness.  Ye  participate  in  our  joys  and  our 
sorrows,  weeping  tears  of  balm  to  console  us  in 
the  time  of  adversity,  and  enhancing  with  your 
smiles  of  innocent  gaiety  the  pleasures  of  our 
prosperous  days ;  but  of  ©ur  crimes  ye  know 
nothing  ;  in  our  schemes  of  aggrandizement  or 
projects  for  the  accumulation  of  wealth,  ye  take 
no  part,  for  base  passions  and  sordid  desires  are 
incompatible  with  the  purity  of  your  natures  : — 

"To  me  ye  seem 

Like  creatures  of  a  dream — 
Aerial  phantoms  of  delight; 
I  can  but  deem  ye  much 
Too  pure  for  mortal  touch, 
Ye  are  so  very  fair,  so  passing  bright" — H.  G.  A. 

The  friendships  and  affections  ye  entertain 
one  for  another,  though  warm  as  the  sunbeams 
wherein  ye  delight  to  bask,  are  of  an  ethereal 
character,  and  stainless  as  the  dews  by  which 


MORAL     OF     FLOWER  8. 

ye  are  nourished  and  fed ;  unlike  those  of  us 
mortals,  too  often  degraded  by  animal  impulses 
and  unworthy  motives. 

"  Sweet  nurslings  of  the  vernal  skies, 

Bathed  in  soft  airs  and  fed  with  dew, 
What  more  than  magic  in  you  lies 

To  fill  the  heart's  fond  view  ! 
Relics  are  ye  of  Eden's  bowers, 

As  soft,  as  fragrant,  and  as  fair, 
As  those  that  crown'd  the  sunshine  hours 

Of  happy  wanderers  there  !" — KEEBLE. 

Beautiful  are  ye,  exceedingly  beautiful  !  and 
numberless  are  the  strains  of  deep  impassioned 
eloquence,  embodying  "  thoughts  that  breathe 
and  words  that  burn,"  to  testify  of  the  admira- 
tion ye  have  excited  in  the  breasts  of  those  who 
worship  that  power, — 

"Which  tunes  the  lip  to  songs  and  sighs, 
And  makes  the  heart  a  haunted  shrine." — L.  E.  A. 

Well  have  the  poets  sung  of  your  loveliness 
of  your  fragrance,  and  of  your  benign  influence. 
Grave  divines  have  made  sermons  on  you,  and 
expounded  your  holy  teachings  for  the  edifica- 
tion of  man, — 


70  MORAL     OF     FLOWEBS. 

"Floral  apostles  !  that  in  dewy  splendor 

Weep  without  woe,  and  blush  without  a  crime, 
Oh  !  may  I  deeply  learn,  and  ne'er  surrender 

Your  lore  sublime !" — HORACE  SMITH. 

Learned  historians,  and  deep-thinking  philo- 
sophers, have  turned  them  from  the  momentous 
events  of  passed  away  times,  and  the  labors  of 
scientific,  research,  to  admire  your  beauties,  and 
speak  of  the  moral  ye  convey.  What  says 
FULLER,  the  sententious  ?  "  A  flower  is  the 
best  complexioned  grass,  as  a  pearl  is  the  best 
colored  clay,  and  daily  it  weareth  God's  livery. 
Solomon  himself  is  outbraved  therewith,  as 
whose  gallantry  only  was  adopted,  and  on  him, 
their's  innate  and  in  them.  In  the  morning 
(when  it  groweth  up)  it  is  a  lesson  of  Divine 
Providence ;  in  the  evening  (when  it  is  cut 
down,  withered)  it  is  a  lesson  of  human  mor- 
tality." -After  this,  who  shall  affirm  that  ye  are 
useless  ?  What  advocate  of  utility  will  start  up 
and  deny  the  truth  of  the  following  lines  ? — 

"Yet  spite  of  all  this  eager  strife, 
The  ceaseless  play,  the  genuine  life, 


I 


MORAL     OF     FLOWERS.  71 

That  serves  the  steailfust  hours, 
Is  in  the  grass  beneath  that  grows 
Unheeded,  and  the  mute  repose 

Of  sweetly  breathing  flowers." — WOEDSWORTH. 

Will  the  cold-hearted  cynic  smile,  and  will 
the  sneering  sceptic  make  a  mockery  of  our 
words  when  we  repeat  this  touching  lesson  ? — 

"God  loveth  all  his  creatures, 

Doth  bless  them  hour  by  hour; 
Then  will  He  not  of  man  take  heed, 
"\Yho-  so  much  beauty  hath  decreed 

Unto  the  way-side  flower?" — MARY  Ho  WITT. 

Perchance  they  may  do  so,  but,  oh  !  we  shall 
love  ye  none  the  less ; — none  the  less  shall  we 
stiivc  to  express  the  feelings  of  gratitude,  arid 
associations  of  .pleasure,  wherewith  ye  are  so 
intimately  blended,  exclaiming  : — 

"  0  !  if  earth's  ruined  wilderness  afford 

So  many  flowers,  breathing  of  love  divine, 
How  gloriously  that  promised  land  must  shine 
That  waits  the  followers  of  earth's  mighty  Lord!" — 

MR*.  RICHARDSOX. 

Fair  spirits  are  ye — ministering  angels  ! 
A   writer,  who  has  drunk  deeply  from  the 
well  of  inspiration,  says  : — 


72  MORAL     OF     FLOWERS. 

"  And  'tis,  and  ever  was  my  wish  and  way 
To  let  all  flowers  live  freely,  and  all  die, 
Whene'er  their  genius  bids  their  souls  depart, 
Among  their  kindred,  in  their  native  place. 
I  never  pluck  the  rose;  the  violet's  head 
Hath  shaken  with  my  breath  upon  its  bank 
And  not  reproached  me ;  the  ever  sacred  cup 
Of  the  pure  lily  hath  between  my  hands 
Pelt  safe,  unsoiled,  nor  lost  one  grain  of  gold." — 

W.  S.  LANDOR. 

What  says  JEAN  PAUL  RITCHER  ?  "  There 
are  so  many  tender  and  holy  emotions  flying 
about  in  our  inward  world,  which,  like  angels,  can 
never  assume  the  body  of  an  outward  act ; — so 
many  rich  and  lovely  flowers  spring  up  which 
bear  no  seed — that  it  is  a  happiness  poetry  was 
invented,  which  receives  into  its  limbus  all  these 
incorporeal  spirits,  and  the  perfume  of  all  these 
flowers."  It  has  been  our  object  in  the  fore- 
going pages,  and  will  be  in  those  which  follow, 
to  give  shape  and  consistency  to  the  many 
beautiful  and  holy  feelings,  emotions  and  fancies, 
which  are  drawn  forth  from  the  human  heart 
and  brain,  by  the  sight  of  flowers,  to  be  hidden 
amid  the  delicate  petals,  until  summoned  by  the 


L_ 


MORAL     OJ     FLOWERS. 

call  of  poesy,  to  issue  from  their  hiding  places, 
and  irradiate  the  world  of  nature  and  imagina- 
tion with  their  divine  effluence.  Well  has  it 
been  asked — by  whom  we  know  not — "  How 
can  the  poet  better  employ  his  genius,  than  in 
giving  flowers  a  life  as  sweet,  more  lasting  than 
their  own  !"  and  how,  we  would  respond,  can 
the  moralist  more  faithfully  perform  the  duties 
of  his  office,  than  by  drawing  lessons  of  wisdom 
and  virtue  from  the  most  lovely  objects  in 
creation,  and  applying  those  lessons  to  the 
hearts  and  consciences  of  his  fellow-creatures, 
endeavoring  thus  to  make  them  happier  and 
wiser  ? — 

"  TVHU  holy  awe  I  cull  the  opening  flower, 
Thejhand  of  God  hath  made  it,  and  where'er 
The'flow'ret  blooms,  there  God  is  present  also." 

These  are  the  words  of  LADY  FLORA  HAS- 
TINGS, and  in  them  we  recognize  a  spirit  akin 
to  our  own  ;  it  is  good  to  bear  about  with  us 
ever  a  deep  sense  of  the  presence  of  the  Creator 
in  His  works,  from  the  mightiest  to  the  meanest, 
and  to  be  moved  to  devotion  and  praise,  not  only 


74  MORAL     OF     FLOWERS. 

by  that  which  is  grand  and  sublime,  but  also  by 
the  common  and  lowly. 

"  0  put  away  thy  pride, 

Or  be  ashamed  of  power, 
That  cannot  turn  aside 

The  breeze  that  waves  a  flower." — J.  CLARE. 

Yes!  "  Flowers  are  holy  things"  and  meet 
objects  of  our  reverence  as  well  as  admiration  ; 
they  claim  from  us  both  love  and  homage,  the 
former  for  their  ineffable  beauty  and  sweetness, 
and  the  latter  for  inasmuch  as  that  they  are 
manifestations  of  the  divine  power,  skill,  and 
goodness  of  Him,  who  hath  scattered  them  so 
plentifully  over  the  face  of  the  earth. 


MORAL     OF     FLOWERS. 


THE     FLOWER    OF    THE     DESERT. 


BY    MRS.  HEMAJJS. 

"Who  doae  not  recollect  the  exultation  of  Vaillant 
over  a  flower  in  the  torrid  wastes  of  Africa  ?  The  affecting 
mention  of  the  influence  of  a  flower  upon  the  mind,  by 
Mungo  Park,  in  a  time  of  suffering  and  despondency,  in 
the  heart  of  the  same  savage  country,  is  familiar  to  every 
one." 

HOWITT'S  BOOK  OF  THE  SEASONS. 

WHY  art  thou  thus  in  thy  beauty  cast, 

O  lonely,  loneliest  flower; 
Where  the  sound  of  song  hath  never  pass'd 

From  human  hearth  or  bower? 

I  pity  thee,  for  thy  heart  of  love, 

For  that  glowing  heart,  that  fain 
Would  breathe  out  joy  with  each  wind  to  rove — 

In  vain,  lost  thing  !  in  vain  ! 


7G  MORAL     OF      FLOWERS. 

I  pity  thee,  for  thy  wasted  bloom, 

For  thy  glory's  fleeting  hour, 
For  the  desert  place,  thy  living  tomb — 

O  lonely,  loneliest  flower  ! 

I  said — but  a  low  voice  made  reply, 

"  Lament  not  for  the  flower  ! 
Though  its  blossoms  all  unmark'd  must  die, 

They  have  had  a  glorious  dower. 

tr 

"  Though  it  bLooms  afar  from  the  minstrel's  way 
And  the  paths  where  lovers  tread ; 

Yet  strength  and  hope,  like  an  inborn  day, 
By  its  odors  have  been  shed. 

II  Yes  !  dews  more  sweet  than  ever  fell 
O'er  island  of  the  blest, 

Were  shaken  forth,  from  its  purple  bell, 
On  a  suffering  human  breast. 

<«  A  wanderer  came,  as  a  stricken  deer, 

O'er  the  waste  of  burning  sand, 
He  bore  the  wound  of  an  Arab  spear, 

He  fled  from  a  ruthless  band. 


MORAL      OF      FLOWERS. 

(t  And  dreams  of  home  in  a  troubled  tide 

Swept  o'er  his  darkening  eye, 
And  he  lay  down  by  the  fountain  side, 

In  his  mute  despair  to  die. 

tf  But  his  glance  was  caught  by  the  desert's  flower, 

The  precious  boon  of  Heaven  ; 
And  sudden  hope,  like  a  vernal  shower, 

To  his.  fainting  heart  was  given. 

tl  For  the  bright  flower  spoke  of  one  above  ; 

Of  the  presence  felt  to  brood 
With  a  spirit  of  pervading  love, 

O'er  the  wildest  solitude. 

«  Oh  !  the  seed  was  thrown  those  wastes  among 

In  a  bless'd  and  gracious  hour, 
For  the  lorn  one  rose  in  heart  made  strong, 

By  the  lonely,  loneliest  flower  !" 


7* 


78  SIORALOFFLOWEKS. 


THE    FLOWER    OF    FENESTRELLA. 

CHARLES  VERAJIONT,  Count  de  Charney,  is  young  and 
possessed  of  boundless  wealth.  lie  outlives  every  enjoy- 
ment ;  and,  literally  through  exhaustion  of  feeling,  plunges 
into  a  conspiracy  against  Napoleon,  and  is  imprisoned  for 
life  in  ihe  small  fortress  of  Fenestrella.  Solitude  nearly 
drives  him  mad;  he  curses  fate,  life,  the  world — and  he 
denies  God.  Suddenly  a  small  plant  springs  up  between 
two  stones  of  the  pavement;  and  to  this  plant  he  gives  the 
endearing  name  of  Picciola.  He  actually  forms  a  friend- 
ship for  it ;  and  at  length  loves  it  with  all  the  force  of 
which  that  tender  passion  is  susceptible.  He  by  degrees 
learns  the  value  of  life;  is  awakened  to  the  beauty  of  the 
world,  and  learns  to  acknowledge  and  worship  God  with 
sincere  and  fervent  piety. — See  Mrs.  Gore's  "  PICCIOLA." 

Dull  vapors  fill  the  joyless  air, 

And  cold  the  sunbeam  falls 
Within  the  court-yard,  paved  and  bare, 

'Neath  Fenestrella's  walls. 


MORAL     OF     FLOWEKS.  *     79 

While  winters  upon  winters  roll, 

There  hath  a  captive  trod  ; 
His  was  that  madness  of  the  soul 

Which  knows  not  of  a  God. 

One  morn  between  the  clefts  of  stone 

Two  leaflets  burst  to  view  ; 
And  day  by  day,  and  one  by  one, 

The  fragile  branches  grew. 

It  grew — nor  canker  knew — nor  blight, 
'Neath  sun,  and  storm,  and  shower ; 

A  blessing  to  the  captive's  sight 
It  grew — a  dungeon  flower  ! 

Oh,  beautiful  and  gentle  thing ! 

Meek  offspring  of  the  sky  ! 
Comest  thou,  like  a  breath  of  spring, 

To  whisper  and  to  die  ! 

The  captive  marked  its  growth,  and  felt 

His  soul  subdued  to  tears : 
That  tender  thing  had  power  to  melt 

The  gathered  frosts  of  years 


MORAL     0»     FLOWERS. 

He  who  had  blindly  trod  the  maze 

Of  learning  and  of  power, 
Stood  watching  with  awakened  gaze 

The  opening  of  a  flower  ! 

He  traced  the  powers  of  sun  and  dew — 
The  light — the  breath  that  fanned ; 

And  owned  at  length,  to  nature  true, 
His  great  Creator's  hand. 

Great  God  !  with  pure  and  wise  design,     • 

Still,  still  'mid  all  we  see, 
Thou  blendest  thus  some  mystic  sign — 

Some  voice  which  breathes  of  Thee  ! 

WARD'S  MISCELLANY 


THE    USE    OF    FLOWERS. 

BY    MART     HOWITT. 

GOD  might  have  bade  the  earth  bring  forth 

Enough  for  great  and  small, 
The  oak-tree,  and  the  cedar-tree, 

Without  a  flower  at  all. 


MOKAL     OF     FLOWERS.  81 

He  might  have  made  enough,  enough, 

For  every  want  of  ours, 
For  luxury,  medicine,  and  toil, 

And  yet  have  made  no  flowers. 

The  ore  within  the  mountain-mine 

Requireth  none  to  grow, 
Nor  doth  it  need  the  lotus-flower 

To  make  the  river  flow. 

The  clouds  might  give  abundant  rain, 

The  nightly  dews  might  fall, 
And  the  herb  that  keepeth  life  in  man, 

Might  yet  have  drank  them  all. 

Then  wherefore,  wherefore  were  they  made, 

All  dyed  with  rainbow  light, 
All  fashioned  with  supremest  grace, 

Upspringing  day  and  night ; — 

Springing  in  valleys  green  and  low, 

And  on  the  mountains  high, 
And  in  the  silent  wilderness, 

Where  no  man  passeth  by  ? 


82  MORAL      OF      FLOWERS. 


Our  outward  life  requires  them  not, 
Then  wherefore  had  they  birth  ? — 

To  minister  delight  to  man, 
To  beautify  the  earth  ; 

To  whisper  hope — to  comfort  man 
Whene'er  his  faith  is  dim ; 

For  whoso  careth  for  tne  flowers 
Will  care  much  more  for  him  ! 


TO    A    FLOWER. 

BY  BARRY   CORNWALL. 

DAWN,  gentle  flower, 
From  the  morning  earth  ! 

We  will  gaze  and  wonder 
At  thy  wondrous  birth  ! 

Bloom,  gentle  flower ! 

Lover  of  the  light, 
Sought  by  wind  and  shower, 

Fondled  by  the  night ! 


MOKAL     OF     FLOWEK8 

Fade,  gentle  flower ! 

All  thy  white  leaves  close  ; 
Having  shown  thy  beauty, 

Time  'tis  for  repose. 

Die,  gentle  flower, 

In  the  silent  sun  ! 
Sob — all  pangs  are  over, 

All  thy  tasks  are  done  ! 

Day  hath  no  more  glory, 
Though  he  soars  on  high 

Thine  is  all  man's  story, 
Live — and  love — and  die ! 


83 


A    SONG    OP    THE    ROSE. 

BY    MRS.  HEMANS. 

ROSE  !   what  dost  thou  here  ? 

Bridal,  royal  rose  ? 
How,  'midst  grief  and  fear, 
Canst  thou  thus  disclose 

That  fervid  hue  of  love  which  to  thy  heart-leaf 
glows  ? 

Rose  !  too  much  array'd 
For  triumphal  hours, 
Look'st  thou  through  the  snade 

Of  these  mortal  bowers, 

Not  to  disturb  my  soul,  thou  crown'd  one  of  all 
flowers  ! 

As  an  eagle  soaring 

Through  a  sunny  sky, 
As  a  clarion  pouring 

Notes  of  victory, 
So  dost  thou  kindle  thoughts,  for  earthly  life  too 

high— 
84 


J 


80  NO     OF     THE     BOS  E.  85 

Thoughts  of  rapture,  flushing 

Youthful  poet's  cheek, 
Thoughts  of  glory  rushing 
Forth  in  song  to  break, 
But  finding  the  spring-tide  of  rapid  song  too 

weak. 
Yet,  oh  !  festal  rose, 

I  have  seen  thee  lying 
In  thy  bright  repose 

Pillow'd  with  the  dying, 

Thy   crimson   by  the   life's  quick  blood  was 
flying. 

Summer,  hope,  and  love  ' 

O'er  that  bed  of  pain, 
Meet  in  thee,  yet  wove 
Too,  too  frail  a  claim 

In  its  embracing  links  the  lovely  to  detain. 
Smilest  thou,  gorgeous  flower  ?— 

O  !  within  the  spells 
Of  thy  beauty's  power 
Something  dimly  dwells, 
At  variance  with  a  world  of  sorrows  and  fare- 
wells. 

8 


86  SONGOPTHEKOSE. 

Ail  the  soul  forth  flowing 

In  that  rich  perfume, 
All  the  proud  life  glowing 

In  that  radiant  bloom, 
Have  they  no  place  but  here,  beneath  the  o'er- 

shadowing  tomb  ? 
Crown'st  thou  but  the  daughters 

Of  our  tearful  race  ? — 
Heaven's  own  purest  waters 
Well  might  bear  the  trace 
Of  thy  consummate  form, melting  to  softer  grace. 
Will  that  clime  enfold  thec 

With  immortal  air 
Shall  we  not  behold  thee 

Bright  and  deathless  there  ? 
In    spirit-lustre    clothed,   transcendently   more 

fair  ? 
Yes  !  my  fancy  sees  thee 

In  that  light  disclose, 
And  its  dream  thus  frees  thee 

From  the  mist  of  woes, 

Darkening  thine  earthly  bowers,  O  bridal,  royal 
rose. 


CHILDREN    AND    FLOWERS. 


CHILDHOOD  is  especially  the  season  of  flowers, 
and  hence  the  poets  have  very  appropriately 
compared  that  early  period  of  our  existence  to 
the  spring-time  of  the  year,  when, — 

"There's  perfume  upon  every  wind, 

Music  in  every  tree — 
Dews  for  the  moisture-loving  flowers — 

Sweets  for  the  sucking  bee ; 
The  sick  come  forth  for  the  healing  breeze, 

The  young  are  gathering  flowers, 
And  life  is  a  tale  of  poetry, 

That  is  told  by  golden  hours." — N.  P.  WILLIS. 

It  is  then  that  flowers  are  to  us  a  source  of 
exquisite  soul-thrilling  delight ;  we  revel  amid 
them  as  careless  and  free-hearted  as  their  own 
worshipper,  the  butterfly ;  inhaling  their  fra- 
grance, and  gazing  on  their  beautiful  tints  with 

87 


CHILDREN     AND     FLOWERS. 

a  pleasure  for  which  we  know  not  how  to 
account ;  it  is  an  admiration  implanted  in  us 
by  the  Great  Maker  for  the  most  lovely  of  His 
creations  : — 

"  Go,  mark  the  matchless  workings  of  the  power, 
That  shuts  within  the  seed  the  future  flower; 
Bids  these  in  elegance  of  form  excel — 
In  colour  these,  and  those  delight  the  smell ; 
Sends  nature  forth,  the  daughter  of  the  skies, 
To  dance  on  earth,  and  charm  all  human  eyes." 

COWPKR. 

Let  the  infant,  peevish  and  fretful  from  suffering 
under  one  of  the  many  disorders  to  which  infancy 
is  peculiarly  liable,  be  shown  a  flower,  and  how 
quickly  will  the  tears  be  changed  to  smiles  ;  how 
eagerly  will  he  endeavour  to  obtain  it,  clapping 
his  little  chubby  hands,  and  crowing  again  with 
excess  of  glee  ;  and  when  in  possession  of  the 
prize  so  much  coveted,  how  will  he  strive,  by 
chuckling  laughter,  and  broken  lispings,  to  ex- 
press his  admiration,  turning  it  round  and  round, 
and  viewing  it  on  all  sides,  his  eyes  sparkling 
the  while,  like  the  bubbles  on  a  sun-lit  foun- 
tain : — 


CHILDREN     AND     FLOWEBS.  89 


"  Tis  now  the  poetry  of  life  to  thee  ! 
With  fancies  fresh  and  innocent  as  flowers, 
And  manners  sportive  as  the  free-wing'd  air; 
Thou  seest  a  friend  in  every  smile ;  thy  days 
Like  singing  birds,  in  gladness  speed  along, 
And  not  a  tear  that  trembles  on  thy  lids, 
But  shines  away,  and  sparkles  into  joy." 

ROBERT  MONTGOMERY. 

Even  the  universal  desire,  manifested  by  chil- 
dren to  pull  flowers  to  pieces,  we  are  inclined 
to  think,  arises  from  an  impression  that  by  so 
doing,  they  will  be  enabled  to  discover  the  source 
of  such  delightful  sensation|*and  take  their  fill 
at  once,  as  the  boy  in  the  fable  is  said  to  have 
destroyed  the  bird  which  laid  golden  eggs, 
in  order  to  enrich  himself  with  the  precious 
store  he  supposed  it  to  contain  ;  and  this  im- 
pression is  further  confirmed  by  watching  the 
earnestness  with  which  they  proceed  in  the 
work  of  destruction,  carefully  examining  every 
petal  until  the  whole  are  plucked  off,  and  the 
disappointment  with  which  they  turn  from  the 
scattered  fragments : — What  an  emblem,  are 
those  shattered  flowers,  of  the  objects  of  our 
desires  in  riper  years ;  how  eagerly  do  we 
8* 


90  CHILDEEN      AND      FLOWERS. 

grasp  them,  and  what  disappointment  ensues 
to  find  them  wither  in  our  hands,  without 
yielding  the  happiness  we  unreasonably  ex- 
pected from  them  ; — and  why  ?  not  because 
they  are  incapable  of  so  doing,  but  that  we,  like 
foolish  children,  wishing  to  obtain  a  surfeit  of 
sweets,  enjoyed  them  not  temperately.  We 
are  even,  as  the  poet  says, — 

"  Like  babes,  that  pluck  an  early  bud  apart 
To  know  the  dainty  colour  of  its  heart." 

%  THOMAS  HOOD. 

Man  !  Man  !  thou  art  ever  repining  and  discon- 
tented ;  but  didst  thou  not  abuse  the  good  gifts 
showered  around  thee  by  a  gracious  Providence, 
how  happy  might'st  thou  be  in  this  beautiful 
world,  exclaiming, — 

"  These  are  thy  wonders,  Lord  of  Love  ! 

To  make  us  see  we  are  but  flowers  that  glide, 
Which  when  we  once  can  find  and  prove, 
Thou  hast  a  garden  for  us  where  to  bide ; 
Who  would  be  more, 
Swelling  through  store, 
Forfeit  their  paradise  by  their  pride." 

GEORGE  HERBERT. 


CHILDREN     AND     FLOWERS.  91 

But  to  return  to  the  season  of  youth — to  the 
spring-time  of  life — when  flowers  are  scattered 
about  our  path,  thickly  as  stars  in  the  firma- 
ment of  night,  and  we  sport  like  lambs  in  the 
verdant  meads,  heedless  of  what  the  future  may 
bring  : — "  Fearless,  beautiful  boyhood  !  beloved 
of  nature,  who,  like  a  kind  school-mistress,  sits 
upon  the  hills,  and  claps  her  hands  in  joy  at 
his  pastime,  giving  him  the  earth  and  all  its 
landscapes  at  once,  for  his  school  and  play- 
ground— and  then  the  rocks  and  woods  re-echo 
his  mirth  ;  and  then  in  thoughtful  silence  wan- 
dering away,  the  quiet  nooks  enclose  him  with 
their  greenness,  making  companions  of  every- 
thing animate  and  inanimate — endowed  with 
beauty  ;  searching  with  a  worshipping  curiosity 
into  every  leaf  and  flower  about  his  path,  while 
the  boughs  bend  to  him  and  touch  him  with 
their  sunshine  ;  picking  up  lessons  of  present 
delight  and  future  wisdom,  by  rivers'  sides,  by 
brooks,  in  the  glens,  and  in  the  fields;  inhaling, 
in  every  breath  he  draws,  intelligence  and 
health." — Thus,  says  CHRISTOPHER  NORTH,  that 
"  grey-haired  man  of  glee" — whose  writings 


92  CHILDREN     AND     FLOWERS. 

breathe  all  the  freshness  and  sparkling  vivacity 
of  early  youth — are  redolent  of  sunshine,  and 
fragrance,  and  vernal  melody.  Long  may  he 
live  to  delight  the  readers  of  MAGA  with  the 
outpourings  of  his  joyous  spirit,  transporting  them 
in  fancy  to  the  wild  solitudes  of  his  native  hills; 
where  the  cares  and  vexations  of  the  busy 
world  are  all  forgotten,  and  the  heart  holdeth 
commune  with  the  Great  Invisible,  purified 
from  aught  that  is  gross  and  unworthy  by  the 
blessed  influence  of  natural  piety,  which  teacheth 
man  to  know  himself  for  what  he  is, — a  worm 
crawling  upon  the  face  of  the  earth, — a  grain  of 
dust  liable  to  be  swept  away  by  the  slightest 
breath  ;  yet,  withal,  gifted  and  endowed  with 
powers  and  faculties,  which  if  rightly  employed, 
will  place  him  but  "  a  little  lower  than  the 
angels  ;"  where 

"The  inner  spirit  keepeth  holiday 
Like  vernal  ground  to  Sabbath  sunshine  left" 

WORDSWORTH. 

And  we,  reflecting  on  the  wondrous  attributes 
wherewith  the  beneficent  Creator  hath  invested 


CHILDREN     AND      FLOWERS.  93 

frail  mortality,  exclaim,  with  the  Prince  of  Den- 
mark,— "  What  a  piece  of  work  is  man !  How 
noble  in  reason  !  How  infinite  in  faculties ! 
in  form  and  moving,  how  express  and  admirable  ! 
in  action,  how  like  an  angel !  in  apprehension, 
how  like  a  god  !  the  beauty  of  the  world  !  the 
paragon  of  animals  !" 

But  we  are  wandering  from  the  path  of  our 
subject,  and  must  crave  the  reader's  indulgence 
while  we  retrace  our  steps,  premising  however, 
that  it  will  not  be  the  last  time,  by  many,  that 
we  shall  have  occasion  to  do  the  like,  being  as 
one  who  walketh  in  a  pleasant  garden,  where 
each  fresh  object  holds  out  a  greater  temptation 
than  the  last,  to  make  us  pause  and  examine  its 
beauties,  until  we  become  fairly  confused  by 
admiration,  and  dazzled  with  excess  of  light. 

"A  mother  kind  walks  forth  in  the  even, 
She,  with  her  little  son,  for  pleasure  given 
To  tread  the  fringed  banks  of  an  amorous  flood, 
That  with  its  music  courts  a  sylvan  wood; 
There  ever  talking  to  her  only  bliss, 
That  now  before,  and  now  behind  her  is, 
She  stoops  for  flowers,  the  choicest  may  be  had, 
And  bringing  them  to  please  her  little  lad, 


94  CHILDREN     AND     FLOWEE9. 

Spies  in  his  hand  some  baneful  flower  or  weed, 
Whereon  he  'gins  to  smell,  perchance  to  feed, 
With  a  more  earnest  haste  she  runs  to  him 
And  pulls  them  from  him." — WILLIAM  BKOWXE. 

Who  can  look  upon  the  ahove  picture, 
limned  by  the  hand  of  one  of  Britain's  sweetest 
pastoral  poets,  without  having  the  tenderest  re- 
collections awakened  within  him,  of  a  parent, 
now  perchance  sleeping  in  the  cold  church-yard, 
or  if  not  so,  divided  from  him  by  a  wide  gulph 
of  worldly  cares  and  interests,  no  longer  exer- 
cising a  judicious  control  over  his  actions  ;  no 
longer  with  a  firm  yet  gentle  hand,  pulling  from 
him  the  baneful  weeds  of  folly,  and  flowers,— 
beautiful  in  appearance,  and  endued  with  fra- 
grancy,  but  fraught  with  a  subtle  poison, — 
which  pleasure  scatters  over  the  pathway  of 
man,  luring  him  to  tarry  in  her  voluptuous 
bowers,  and  steep  his  soul  in  sensual  delights, 
whereafter  come  repentance  and  vain  self-re- 
proach, for  precious  time  thus  idly  squandered, 
and  opportunities  irrevocably  lost. 


CHILDREN      AND      FLOWERS.  9<J 

"  Oh,  lovely  flowers !  the  earth's  rich  diadem, 
Bright  resurrection  from  her  sable  tomb, 

Ye  are  the  eyes  of  Nature  !  her  best  gem — 
With  you  she  tints  her  face  with  living  bloom, 
And  breathes  delight  in  gales  of  rich  perfume : 

Emblems  are  ye  of  heaven,  and  heavenly  joy, 
And  starry  brilliance  in  a  world  of  gloom, 

Peace,  innocence,  and  guileless  infancy, 

Claim  sisterhood  with  you,  and  holy  is  the  tie." — Q. 

Aye  !  in  sooth,  "  holy  is  the  tie  !"  Is  there 
one  of  our  readers  who  will  not  subscribe  to 
the  truth  of  this  sentiment  ?  Is  there  aught  so 
pure,  so  perfectly  blameless  in  its  nature,  as  the 
love  we  cherish  in  early  years  for  all  things  fair 
and  gentle,  but  more  especially  for  flowers; 
may  they  find  a  place  in  our  bosoms,  when  we 
become  traffickers  in  the  busy  mart,  and  actors 
in  the  great  drama  of  existence  ?  Whence  arises 
the  pleasure  that  we  ever  experience  at  the 
sight  of  a-  flower,  but  from  an  association  of 
ideas  ?  Does  not  the  jaded  mind  immediately 
return  to  drink  from  the  untainted  waters  of 
that  fount  of  feeling,  the  stream  of  which,  since 
it  left  the  emerald  meads  of  childhood,  has 
become  turgid  to  the  eye,  and  bitter  to  the  taste  ? 


06  CHILDREN     AND     FLOWERS. 

Well  may  MADAME  DE  GENLIS,  recurring  to 
the  scenes  of  her  early  life,  write  thus  : — "  Oh, 
how  much  sweeter  is  it  to  recall  to  my  mind 
the  walks  and  sports  of  my  happy  childhood, 
than  the  pomp  and  splendour  of  the  palaces 
I  have  since  inhabited  !  All  the  courts,  once  so 
brilliant,  are  now  faded.  All  the  projects  which 
were  then  built  with  §o  much  confidence,  are 
become  chimeras.  The  impenetrable  future  has 
cheated  alike  the  security  of  princes,  and  the 
ambition  of  courtiers.  Versailles  is  dropping 
into  ruins  ;  the  delicious  gardens  of  Chantilly, 
of  Villers-Coterets,  of  Sceaux,  of  Isle-Adam, 
are  destroyed.  I  should  now  look  in  vain  for 
the  vestiges  of  that  frail  grandeur  which  I  once 
admired  there  ;  but  I  should  find  the  banks  of 
the  Loire  as  smiling  as  ever,  the  meadows  of 
St.  Aubin  as  full  of  violets  and  lilies  of  the  val- 
ley, and  its  woods  loftier  and  fairer.  There 
are  no  vicissitudes  for  the  eternal  beauties  of 
nature  ;  and  while,  amidst  blood-stained  revolu- 
tions, palaces,  marble  columns,  statues  of  bronze, 
and  even  cities  themselves  disappear,  the  simple 


CHILDREN      AND      FLOWERS.  97 

flowers  of  the  field,  regardless  of  the  storm,  grow 
into  beauty,  and  multiply  for  ever."  Yes  ! 

"  The  wilding  rose,  sweet  as  thyself, 

And  new-cropp'd  daisies  are  thy  treasure ; 
I'd  gladly  part  with  worldly  pelf, 

To  taste  again  thy  youthful  pleasure." 

JOAXXA  BAILLIE. 

Says  the  first  of  Scotland's  poetesses,  addressing 
a  child  ;  and  the  Northamptonshire  peasant,  in 
his  own  peculiar  sweet,  though  mournful  strains, 
thus  sings  of  early  delights  : — 

"  Those  joys  which  childhood  calls  it  own, 

Would  they  were  kin  to  men  ! 
Those  treasures  to  the  world  unknown, 

When  known,  are  withered  then ! 
But  hovering  round  her  growing  year?, 

To  gild  Care's  sable  shroud, 
Their  spirit  through  the  gloom  appears, 

As  sun  behind  a  cloud." — JOHN  CLARE. 

This  is  but  one  of  the  many  instances  in  which 
he  recurs  to  the  flowery  pleasures  of  childhood, 
and  he  is  but  one  of  the  many  thousands  who 
have  recorded  in  golden  numbers  their  joyful 
recollections  of  that  delightful  period  of  exist- 
ence, when — 

9 


CHILDREN      AND      FLOWERS. 

"  We  tread  on  flowers,  flowers  meet  our  every  glance, 
It  is  the  scene,  the  season  of  romance, 

The  very  bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky." 

JOSIAH  COXDOR. 

MRS.  HEMANS,  in  one  of  her  letters  to  a  friend, 
says :  "  I  really  think  that  fine  passion  for 
flowers  is  the  only  one  which  long  sickness 
leaves  untouched  with  its  chilling  influence. 
Often  during  this  weary  illness  of  mine,  have  I 
looked  upon  new  books  with  perfect  apathy, 
when  if  a  friend  has  sent  me  a  few  flowers,  my 
heart  has  leaped  up  to  their  dreamy  hues  and 
odours,  with  a  sudden  sense  of  renovated  child- 
hood, which  seems  to  me  one  of  the  mysteries 
of  our  being."  How  many  instances  might  be 
quoted  to  show  the  prevalence  of  this  mysterious 
feeling.  How  often,  when  the  frame  has  become 
worn  out  by  disease,  and  while  the  sufferer  was 
calmly  awaiting  the  approach  of  death  ; — when 
all  the  joys,  sorrows,  hopes,  and  fears  of  mor- 
tality have  faded  away,  even  as  a  dream,  from 
the  memory, — the  scenes  and  circumstances  of 
childhood, — forgotten  amid  the  turmoil  of  stormy 
passions  and  painful  anxieties, — have  arisen 


L. 


CHILDREN     AND     FLOWEBS. 

before  him  in  all  their  pristine  freshness  and 
beauty.  The  soul,  as  it  approaches  more  nearly 
to  its  Creator,  becomes  purified ;  the  fogs  and 
mists  of  prejudice  and  folly  are  swept  away, 
and  it  is  enabled  more  clearly  to  distinguish, 
and  better  to  appreciate  the  value  of  that  state 
of  innocence,  which  is  an  antetype  of  the  angelic. 
It  longs  to  be  once  more  as  a  little  child,  having 
now  come  to  a  right  understanding  of  our 
Saviour's  words, — "  Suffer  little  children  to 
come  unto  me,  and  forbid  them  not ;  for  of 
such  is  the  kingdom  of  Heaven." 

"Oh,  world  of  sweet  phantoms,  how  pleasant  thou  art! 
The  past  is  perpetual  youth  to  the  heart." — L.  E.  L. 

Sang  one  who  perished,  like  a  just  expanded 
rose  on  which  the  blight  has  suddenly  fallen ; 
and  KEATS,  the  pure,  the  gentle-hearted,  he, — 

"  Who  grew 

Like  a  pale  flower  by  some  sad  maiden  cherished, 
And  fed  with  true-love  tears,  instead  of  dew." — SHELLEY. 

Was  it  not  this  feeling  which  prompted  him, 
on  the  bed  of  dissolution,  to  exclaim,  that  "  he 
felt  the  daisies  growing  over  him  ?" 


100  CHILDREN      AND      FLOWEKS. 

Another  poet,  who  passed  a  weary  and  a 
toilsome  life, — 

"  Chained  to  the  desk,  the  world's  o'er-laboured  slave/' 

Thus  recurs  to  the  sweet  morn  of  existence ; — 

"  How  beautiful 

The  vernal  hour  of  life.     Then  pleasure  wings 
M'ith  lightning  speed  the  moments,  and  the  sun 
Burns  brightly,  and  nor  cloud  nor  storm  appears 
To  darken  the  horizon.     Hope  looks  out 
Into  the  dazzling  sheen,  and  fondly  talks 
Of  summer,  and  Love  comes,  and  all  the  air 
Rings  with  wild  harmonies." — CARRINGTOW. 

Alas  !  that  he  should  have  found  occasion  to 
draw  the  veil  of  disappointment  and  regret  over 
this  bright  picture. 

"If  people  would-be  wise  enough  through 
life  to  derive  enjoyment  from  such  innocent 
pleasures  as  delighted  them  in  childhood,  we 
should  find  far  fewer  sour  tempers,  cold  hearts, 
and  narrow  minds  in  the  world.  All,  except 
positive  idiots,  are  endowed  by  God  with  a  por- 
tion of  that  beautiful  poetry  of  existence,  which 
in  childhood  is  so  conspicuously  evident,  teach- 


CHILDREN     AND     FLOWEES.  101 

ing  even  the  infant  in  the  nurse's  arms  to  snatch 
at  flowers  and  laugh  in  the  sunshine  !"  These 
are  the  words  of  Miss  TWAMLEV,  one,  whose 
name  we  cannot  mention,  but  straightway  there 
rise  before  us  visions  of  floral  loveliness,  filled  with 
all  fair  shapes  and  rainbow  hues  ;  we  breathe  an 
atmosphere  of  perfume,  and  our  sense  of  hearing 
becomes  so  acute,  that  we  can  even  distinguish, 
amid  the  grand  symphony  of  nature,  the  pecu- 
liar chime  of  the  harebells,  which  this  lady 
likens  to  fairy  music, — a  symphonious  peal, 
rung  out  just  as  twilight  steals  over  the  land- 
scape, to  summon  the  tiny  folk  to  their  revels, 
when  they 


Knit  hands,  and  beat  the  ground 


In  alight  fantastic  round." 

But  why,  «  oh,  lady  fair!"  say  "  all,  except 
positive  idiots?"  Have  these  no  share,  think 
ye,  in  "  the  poetry  of  existence  ?"  Do  they 
not  love  to  inhale  the  perfume,  and  gaze  on  the 
forms  and  hues  of  flowers  ?  Do  they  not  listen 
with  delight  to  the  singing  of  birds,  the  gurg- 
ling of  running  streams,  and  the  waving  of  leafy 
9* 


r 


102  CHILDREN      AND      FLOWERS. 


trees  ?  For  our  part,  we  think  that  the  life  of 
an  idiot,  is  one  of  perpetual  childhood  ;  that  he 
is  gifted  with  a  double  portion  of  simple  and 
innocent  enjoyments,  to  compensate  for  the  loss 
of  those  which  result  from  a  right  employment 
of  man's  intellectual  and  moral  powers :  Oh, 
tell  us  not  that  the  idiot  is  deprived  of  a  share 
in  the  "  poetry  of  existence  !"  Is  he  not  the 
companion  of  the  bird,  and  the  bee,  and  the 
butterfly  ?  Does  he  not  lie  about  in  the  green 
meads,  basking  in  the  sunshine  ?  Does  he  not 
plait  rushes  by  the  streamlet's  brim,  and  talk  to 
his  own  image  reflected  on  its  glassy  surface  ? 
Does  he  not  hide  him  in  flo\\ery  nooks  and 
dingles,  laughing  like  a  very  incarnation  of 
gladness,  and  murmuring  snatches  of  sweet  old 
ballads  ?  Even  in  his  melancholy  moods, — 
save  during  those  periods  when  he  is  possessed 
by  fears,  the  more  terrible  from  their  vague- 
ness— and  they  are  not  generally  of  long  dura- 
tion,— his  state  seems  to  be  that  of  passive  en- 
joyment. 

And  who   shall  say  that   he    is    unhappy  ? 
The  tears  he  shed  flow  not  from  disappointment 


CHILDREN      ANL»      FLOWERS.  103 

or  regret.  He  has  no  fears  for  the  future,  no 
ambitious  longings,  no  unruly  desires,  that  never 
can  be  gratified,  to  vex  him  !  So  his  physical 
wants  be  attended  to,  what  cares  he  how  the 
world  wags ;  how  thrones  and  empires  totter ; 
how  misery  and  vice  progress ;  how  disease 
and  death  afflict  nations  and  individuals.  Does 
he  wish  to  become  a  king  ?  straightway  his 
"  cone-like  head"  bears  a  regal  diadem,  his  tat- 
tered habiliments  are  changed  to  purple  robes, 
blazing  with  jewelry,  and  the  bough  he  (t  twirls" 
is  the  sceptre,  which  symbolizes  his  command 
over  half  the  globe.  Does  he  wish  ? — but  it 
were  useless  to  pursue  this  subject  further  ? — he 
is  a  poet,  a  philosopher, — aught  which  may 
suit  the  whim  of  the  moment,  yet  free  from  the 
harassing  cares,  griefs,  and  anxieties,  which  but 
too  often  render  miserable  the  lives  of  those  who 
play  such  conspicuous  parts  in  the  great  drama 
of  mortality.  CRABBE,  who  was  a  most  faithful 
delineator  of  human  life  in  all  its  phases,  and 
under  all  circumstances,  speaking  of  the  inmates 
of  the  village  poor-house,  says — 


104  CHILDREN     ASD     FLOWERS. 

"The  blind,  the  lame,  and_/ar  the  happiest  they  ! 
The  moping  idiot,  and  the  madman  gay." 

Even  amid  our  tears  of  pity  for  poor  Ophelia, 
we  cannot  help  feeling  in  some  degree  rejoiced, 
that  her  mind  has  become  a  blank,  bearing  no 
record  of  her  former  woes  and  sufferings,  so 
that  she  can  now  find  pleasure  and  amusement 
in  twining  garlands  and  carolling  songs,  as  in 
the  days  of  her  childhood.  As  well  might  it  be 
said  because  the  tunes  of  the  ^Eolian  harp  are 
wild  and  wandering,  that  it  gives  out  no  melody 
to  the  touch  of  the  soft  breezes,  as  that  the  mind 
of  an  idiot,  which  is  moved  by  sudden  impulses 
and  gusts  of  passion,  responds  not  to  those  holy 
influences,  which  the  God  of  nature  has  scat- 
tered through  the  material  universe,  and  which 
constitute  "  the  poetry  of  existence." 

There  are  those,  who  tell  us,  that  youth  is 
not  the  most  happy  period  of  existence  ; — that 
the  sorrows  of  childhood,  though  light  in  com- 
parison with  those  we  experience  in  after  years, 
are  as  weighty  in  proportion  to  the  powers  of 
endurance  that  we  then  possess.  They  say  : — 

"'Tis  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  view." 


CHILDEEN      AND      FLOWEK9.  105 

And  our  only  reason  for  recurring  with  such  a 
tenderness  to  the  scenes  and  pleasures  of  by- 
gone limes,  is  that  we  are  ever  dissatisfied  with 
our  present  lot,  and  inclined  to  murmur  at  the 
decrees  of  Providence.  But,  oh,  this  is  a  vain 
philosophy  !  Reason  may  preach  and  moralize 
after  this  fashion,  but  Feeling  denies  the 
truth  of  the  inference  drawn.  The  very  cir- 
cumstance of  our  forgetfulness  with  regard  to 
the  griefs  and  troubles  of  childhood,  proves  their 
trifling  and  easily  eflaceable  nature.  Is  it  so 
with  the  cares  and  anxieties  of  maturity  ? 
Where  is  the  favoured  mortal  who,  if  his  bosom 
were  laid  bare,  would  not  exhibit  traces  of 
wounds,  many  freshly  bleeding,  and  scars  too 
deep  ever  to  be  effaced  ?  "  The  many  ills  to 
which  the  flesh  is  heir,"  when  do  they  come 
most  thickly  upon  us  ?  not  in  the  early  days  ! 
not  in  the  spring  of  life  !  but  in  the  summer, 
and  the  autumn,  and  the  winter  ;  'tis  then  the 
desolating  tempest  sweeps  over  the  landscape, 
and  we  behold  the  buds  of  hope,  and  the  full- 
blown flowers  of  joy,  alike  withered,  scattered, 
and  destroyed.  This,  it  may  be  said,  is  a 


106  CHILDREN      AND      FLOWERS. 

melancholy  picture  of  human  life  ;  "  'tis  true, 
'tis  pity,  pity  'tis,  'tis  true,"  in  the  generality 
of  cases,  and  where  there  is  one,  whose  heart  is 
unscathed  by  the  burning  finger  of  affliction, 
there  are  thousands  who  might  exclaim,  with 
LADY  RANDOLPH  : —  , 

"  Have  you  not  sometimes  seen  an  early  flower 
Open  its  bud,  and  spread  its  silken  leaves, 
To  catch  sweet  airs,  and  odours  to  bestow ; 
Then  by  a  keen  blast  nipt,  pull  in  its  leaves, 
And  though  still  living,  die  to  scent  and  beauty  ? 
Emblem  of  me  ;  Affliction,  like  a  storm, 
Hath  killed  the  forward  blossoms  of  the  heart." 

HOME'S  DOUGLAS. 

Let  it  not  be  supposed  by  this,  that  we  are 
unaware  of  the  truth  of  the  scripture  proverb, 
which  saith,  "  whom  the  Lord  loveth  he 
chasteneth,"  or  that  we  would  advocate  the 
indulgence  of  a  morbid  feeling  of  regret  for 
past-away  pleasures.  We  humbly  acknow- 
ledge the  wisdom  and  justice  of  the  Supreme 
Disposer  of  events,  and  firmly  believe  that 
adversity, — 

"  Though  like  the  toad,  ugly  and  venomous, 
Bears  yet  a  precious  jewel  in  his  head." — SHAKSPEARE. 


CHILDREN      AND      FLOWERS.  107 

But  even  while  acknowledging  this,  our  thoughts 
will  revert  regretfully  to  the  sweet  memories  of 
early  days,  and  we  cannot  help  saying  to  the 
child  :— 

"Linger  yet  upon  the  hour, 
Of  the  green  leaf  and  the  flower; 
Art  thou  happy  ?     For  thy  sake 
Do  the  birds  their  music  make — 
Birds  with  golden  plumes,  that  bring 
Sunshine  from  a  distant  spring, 
For  thine  eyes  the  roses  grow 
Red  as  sunset,  white  as  snow, 
And  the  bees  are  gathering  gold 
Ere  the  winter  hours  come  cold. 
Flowers  are  colouring  the  wild-wood, 
Art  thou  weary  of  thy  childhood  ? 
Break  not  its  enchanted  reign, — 
Such,  life  never  knotc*  again." — L.  K.  L. 


THE  PICTURE   OF   T.   C.  IN   A  PROSPECT    OF 
FLOWERS. 

BY   ANDREW  MARVELL. 

See  with  what  sweet  simplicity 
The  nymph  begins  her  golden  days  ! 
In  the  green  grass  she  loves  to  lie, 
And  there,  with  her  fair  aspect,  tames 
The  wilder  flowers,  and  gives  them  names : 
But  only  with  the  roses  plays, 

And  them  does  tell 

What  colour  best  becomes  them,  and  what  smell. 
***** 

Meantime  whilst  every  verdant  thing 
Itself  does  at  thy  beauty  charm 

Reform  the  errors  of  the  spring  ; 
Make  that  the  tulips  may  have  share 
Of  sweetness,  seeing  they  are  fair ; 

And  roses  of  their  thorns  disarm  : 
But  most  procure 

That  violets  may  a  longer  age  endure. 
108 


..J 


A     PROSPECT     OT     FLOWERS.  lO'.l 


But,  O  young  beauty  of  the  woods, 
Whom  Nature  courts  with  fruits  and  flowers, 

Gather  the  flowers  but  spare  the  buds  ; 
Lest  Flora,  angry  at  that  crime, 
To  kill  the  infants  in  their  prime, 

Should  quickly  make  the  example  yours, 

And  e'er  we  see 
Nip,  in  the  blossom,  all  our  hopes  in  thee. 

THE     HYACINTH. 

BY    CASIM1R. 

CHILD  of  the  Spring,  thou  charming  flower. 

No  longer  in  confinement  lie, 
Arise  to  light,  thy  form  discover, 

Rival  the  azure  of  the  sky. 
The  rains  are  gone,  the  storms  are  o'er, 

Winter  retires  to  make  thee  way  ; 
Come,  then,  thou  sweetly  blooming  flower, 

Come,  lovely  stranger,  come  away. 
The  sun  is  dressed  in  beaming  smiles, 

To  give  thy  beauties  to  the  day : 
Young  zephyrs  wait  with  gentlest  gales, 

To  fan  thy  bosom  as  they  play. 
10 


A    BIRTH-DAY    BALLAD. 

BY    MISS    JEWSBURT. 

Thou  art  plucking  spring  roses,  Genie, 

And  a  little  red  rose  art  thou, 
Thou  hast  unfolded  to-day,  Genie, 

Another  bright  leaf,  I  trow  ; 
But  the  roses  will  live  and  die,  Genie 

Many  and  many  a  time, 
Ere  thou  riast  unfolded  quite,  Genie — 

Grown  into  maiden  prime. 

Thou  art  looking  now  at  the  birds,  Genie, 
But,  oh  !  do  not  wish  their  wing  ! 

That  would  only  tempt  the  fowler,  Genie, 
Stay  thou  on  earth  and  sing ; 

Stay  in  the  nursing  nest,  Genie, 
Be  not  soon  thence  beguiled, 

Thou  wilt  ne'er  find  a  second,  Genie, 

Never  be  twice  a  child. 
110 


A     BIRTII-DAY      BALLAD.  Ill 

Thou  art  building  towers  of  pebbles,  Genie, 

Pile  them  up  brave  and  high, 
And  leave  them  to  follow  a  bee,  Genie, 

As  he  wandereth  singing  by  ; 
But  if  thy  towers  fall  down,  Genie, 

And  if  the  brown  bee  is  lost, 
Never  weep,  for  thou  must  learn,  Genie, 

How  soon  life's  schemes  are  crost. 


Thy  hand  is  in  a  bright  boy's,  Genie, 

And  he  calls  thee  his  sweet  wee  wife, 
But  Jet  not  thy  little  heart  think,  Genie, 

Childhood  the  prophet  of  life  ; 
It  may  be  life's  minstrel,  Genie, 

And  sing  sweet  songs  and  clear, 
But  minstrel  and  prophet  now,  Genie, 

Are  not  united  here. 


What  will  thy  future  fate  be,  Genie, 

Alas  !  shall  I  live  to  see  ! 
For  thou  art  scarcely  a  sapling,  Genie, 

And  I  am  a  moss-grown  tree  ! 


112  A      BIRTH -DAY      BALLAD. 

I  am  shedding  life's  leaves  fast,  Genie, 
Thou  art  in  blossom  sweet ; 

But  think  of  the  grave  betimes,  Genie, 
Where  young  and  old  oft  meet. 


THE    FURZE. 

MID  scatter'd  foliage,  pale  and  sere, 
Thy  kind  flowret  cheers  the  gloom  ; 

And  offers  to  the  waning  year 
The  tribute  of  its  golden  bloom. 

Beneath  November's  clouded  sky, 
In  chill  December's  stormy  hours, 

Thy  blossom  meets  the  traveller's  eye, 
Gay  as  the  buds  of  summer  bowers. 

Flower  of  the  dark  and  wintry  day  ! 

Emblem  of  friendship  !  thee  I  hail ! 
Blooming  when  others  fade  away, 

And  brightest  when  their  hues  grow  pale. 


FLORAL    CEREMONIES. 

"  Bring,  FLORA,  bring  thy  treasures  here, 
The  pride  of  all  the  blooming  year, 
Aad  let  me  thence  a  garland  frame." — SHEXSTOSE. 

"  THE  worship  of  FLORA,"  says  MR.  PHIL- 
LIPS, "  among  the  heathen  nations,  may  be 
traced  up  to  very  early  days.  She  was  the 
object  of  religious  veneration  among  the  Pho- 
ciansand  the  Sabines,  long  before  the  foundation 
of  Rome  ;  and  the  early  Greeks  worshipped  her 
under  the  name  of  Chloris.  The  Romans  in- 
stituted a  festival  in  honor  of  flora  as  early  as 
the  time  of  Romulus,  as  a  kind  of  rejoicing  at 
the  appearance  of  the  blossoms,  which  they 
welcomed  as  the  harbingers  of  fruits.  The 
festival  games  of  Floralla,  were  not  however, 
regularly  instituted  until  five  hundred  and  six- 
teen years  after  the  foundation  of  Rome,  when 
on  consulting  the  celebrated  books  of  the  Sybil, 
10*  113 


114  KLCKAL     CEREMONIES. 

it  \vas  ordained  that  the  feast  should  be  annually 
kept  on  the  28th  day  of  April,  that  is  four  days 
before  the  calends  of  May."  —  Bounteous 
May  !_ 

"  Woods  and  groves  are  of  thy  dressing, 
Hill  and  dale  doth  boast  thy  blessing," 

As  Milton  sings,  but  \ve  shall  have  much  to 
say  of  our  modern  (l  Feast  of  Flowers,"  which, 
doubtless,  had  its  origin  in  that  above  spoken 
of,  and  which  was  introduced  by  the  Roman 
conquerors  into  Britain. 

"  0  !  fairest  of  the  fabled  forms  !  that  stream, 
Dressed  by  wild  Fancy,  through  the  poet's  dream, 
Still  may  tby  attributes  of  leaves  and  flower?, 
Thy  gardens  rich,  and  shrub-o'ershadowed  bowers, 
And  yellow  meads,  with  spring's  first  honors  bright, 
The  child's  gay  heart  and  frolic  step  invite ; 
And  while  the  careless  wanderer  explores 
The  umbrageous  forest  or  the  rugged  shores, 
Climbs  the  green  down  or  roams  the  brooin-clad  waste, 
May  Truth  and  Nature  form  his  future  taste  ! 
Goddess  !  on  youth's  blest  hours  thy  gifts  bestow  ; 
Bind  the  fair  wreath  on  virgin  Beauty's  brow, 
And  still  may  Fancy's  brightest  flowers  be  wove 
Round  the  gold  chains  of  hymeneal  love." 

CHARLOTTE  SMITH. 


FLORAL    CEREMOMiSS.  115 

It  is  thus  that  an  English  poetess  apostrophizes 
the  Goddess  Flora,  who,  according  to  classical 
authority,  was  "  married  to  ZepkyrtU,  and  re- 
ceived from  him  the  privilege  of  presiding  over 
flowers  and  enjoying  perpetual  youth."  She 
was  represented  by  Ovid  and  others  as  crowned 
with  flowers,  and  holding  in  her  hand  the  horn 
of  plenty  ;  perhaps  we  can  find  her  portrait 
among  our  collection  of  poetic  beauties.  Ah  ! 
here  it  is  ! — 


"  The  vision  comes  ! — while  slowly  melt  away 
Night's  hovering  shades  before  the  eastern  ray, 
Ere  yet  declines  the  morning's  humid  star, 
Fair  Fancy  brings  her ;  in  her  leafy  car 
Flora  descends  to  dress  the  expecting  earth, 
Awake  the  germs,  and  call  the  buds  to  birth ; 
Bids  each  hybernacle  its  cell  unfold, 
And  open  silken  leaves  and  eyes  of  gold. 
Of  forest  foliage,  of  the  firmest  shade, 
Enwove  by  magic  hands,  the  car  was  made  : 
Oak  and  the  maple  plane  without  entwined, 
And  beech  and  ash  the  verdant  concave  lined 
The  saxifrage,  that  snowy  flowers  emboss, 
Supplied  the  seat ;  and  of  the  mural  moss 
The  velvet  footstool  rose,  where  lightly  rest 
Her  slender  feet  in  cyprepedium  dressed. 


116  FLORAL    CEREMONIES. 

The  tufted  rush  that  bears  a  silken  crown, 

The  floating  feathers  of  the  thistle's  down, 

In  tender  hues  of  rainbow  lustre  dyed, 

The  airy  texture  of  her  robe  supplied; 

And  wild  convolvnli,  yet  half  unblown, 

Formed,  with  their  wreathing  buds,  her  simple  zone ; 

Some  wandering  tresses  of  her  radiant  hair 

Luxuriant  floated  on  the  enamored  air; 

The  rest  were  by  the  scandix  points  confined, 

And  graced,  a  shining  knot,  her  head  behind — 

While,  as  a  sceptre  of  supreme  command, 

She  waved  the  enthoxanthum  in  her  hand." 

CHARLOTTE  SMITH. 

We  wish  that  our  space  permitted  us  to  quote 
the  description  of  the  attendants  of  the  beautiful 
Goddess  of  Flowers  from  the  same  poem,  and 
the  exquisite  forms  of  perfumed  loveliness 
which  the  earth  and  the  waters  put  forth  to 
welcome  her  approach,  but  the  poet  of  Lusitania 
is  waiting  to  tell  us  how, — 

"  Zephyr  and  Flora  emulous  conspire 

To  breathe  their  graces  o'er  the  field's  attire  ; 
The  one  gives  healthful  freshness,  one  the  hue, 
Fairer  than  e'er  creative  pencil  drew. 
Pale  as  the  lovesick  hopeless  maid  they  dye 
The  modest  violet;  from  the  curious  eye 
The  modest  violet  turns  her  gentle  head, 
And  by  the  thorn  weeps  o'er  her  lowly  bed; 


FLORAL    CEREMONIES.  117 

Bending  beneath  the  tears  of  pearly  dawn, 
The  snow-white  lily  glitters  o'er  the  lawn ; 
Lo  !  from  the  bough  reclines  the  damask  rose, 
And  o'er  the  lily's  milk-white  bosom  glows; 
Fresh  in  the  dew,  far  o'er  the  painted  dales, 
Each  fragrant  herb  her  sweetest  scent  exhales." 

CAMOEXS. 

We  must  not  now  pause  to  describe  how 

"  POMONA,  fired  with  rival  envy,  views 

The  glaring  pride  of  FLORA'S  darling  hues," 

And  endeavors  to  outvie  their  beauty  and  fra- 
grance with  her  own  luscious  productions,  but 
turn  to  the  author  of  "  the  Task." — Listen  to 
him  ! — Oh,  lady  readers  ! — 

"  The  spleen  is  seldom  felt  where  FLORA  reigns, 
The  low'ring  eye,  the  petulance,  the  frown, 
And  sullen  sadness  that  o'ershade,  distort, 
And  mar  the  face  of  beauty,  when  no  cause 
For  such  immeasurable  woe  appears  : 
These  FLORA  banishes,  and  gives  the  fair 
Sweet  smiles,  and  bloom  less  transient  than  her  own." 

COWPER. 

From  the  Roman  Antiquities  we  learn,  that 
"  Among  the  Latins,  a  bride  on  her  wedding- 


118  FLORAL    CEREMONIES 

day  was  dressed  in  a  long  white  robe  with  a 
purple  fringe ;  her  face  was  covered  with  a  red 
veil,  and  her  head  was  crowned  with  flowers. 
On  arriving  at  the  house  of  her  husband,  she 
found  woolen  fillets  round  the  door-posts,  which 
were  adorned  with  flowers,  and  anointed  with 
the  fat  of  wolves  to  avert  enchantment." 

"  I  oft  have  seen  upon  a  bridal  day, 

Full  many  maids  clad  in  their  best  array, 
In  honor  of  the  bride,  come  with  their  flaskets 
Filled  full  of  flowers ;  others  in  wicker  baskets 
Bring  from  the  marish  rushes  to  o'erspread 
The  ground,  whereon  to  church  the  lovers* tread: 
Whilst  that  the  quaintest  youth  of  all  the  train 
Ushers  the  way  with  many  a  piping  strain." 

WILLIAM  BROWNE. 

Says  our  old  pastoral  poet,  in  allusion  to  this 
custom,  as  still  followed  in  comparatively 
modern  times,  though  to  us  the  period  of  which 
he  writes  may  be  spoken  of  as  (l  long,  long 
ago."  In  a  similar  strain  sings  Drayton, 
whose  picturesque  description  of  the  Marriage 
of  the  Thames  and  Isis  will  be  found  farther 
on.  Another  of  the  Company  of  Singers  of 


FLORAL    CEREMONIES.  119 

the  Elizabethan  era,  makes  this  playful  allusion 
in  his  Epithalamium  : — 

"  Now  busie  maydons,  strew  sweet  flowres, 
Much  like  our  bride  in  virgin  state, — 
Now  fresh,  then  prest,  soone  dying; 
The  death  is  sweet,  and  must  be  your?, 
Time  goes  on  crutches  till  that  date, 
Birds  fledged  must  needes  be  flying." 

CHRISTOPHER  CKOOKK. 

Then  again,  in  the  play  of  "  the  Two  Noble 
Kinsmen,"  we  find  a  very  sweet  bridal-song, 
beginning  thus:  — 

"  Roses,  their  sharp  spines  being  gone, 
Not  royal  in  their  smells  alone, 

But  in  their  hue; 
Maiden-pinks,  of  odors  faint. 
Daisies,  smell-less,  yet  most  quaint, 
And  sweet  thyme  true. 

"  Primrose,  first-born  child  of  rer, 
Merry  spring-time's  harbinger, 

"With  her  bells  dim  ; 
Oxlips,  in  their  cradles  growing, 
Marigolds  on  death-beds  blowing, 

Lark-heels  trim. 


120  FLORAL     CEREMONIES. 

"  All  dear  Nature's  children  sweet, 
Lye  'fore  bride  and  bridegroom's  feet, 

Blessing  their  sense ! 
Not  an  angel  of  the  air, 
Bird  melodious,  or  bird  fair, 
Be  absent  hence." 

FLETCHER, 

Even  at  the  present  day,  it  is  quite  customary 
with  us  to  strew  the  path  of  the  bride  and 
bridegroom  with  flowers,  and  to  offer  them  nose- 
gays as  they  come  from  church  ;  and  in  Wales, 
as  in  some  of  our  rural  districts,  where  the 
primitive  observances  have  been  better  pre- 
served, wreaths  and  garlands  are  worn  on  such 
occasions,  and  even  suspended  in  the  place  of 
worship  itself;  and  to  those  who  condemn  this 
practice  as  unchristianlike,  we  would  say  in 
the  words  of  Bishop  Heber,  "If  this  be 
heathenish,  Heaven  help  the  wicked  !  But  I 
hope  you  will  not  suspect  that  I  shall  lend 
any  countenance  to  this  kind  of  ecclesiastical 
tyranny  (which  would  forbid  such  rites  and 
observances),  or  consent  to  men's  consciences 
being  burdened  with  restrictions  foreign  to  the 
cheerful  spirit  of  the  Gospel."  This  was 


FLORAL    CEREMONIES.  121 

written  in  reference  to  the  denouncement  of  a 
certain  crown  of  flowers  used  in  marriages,  as 
"a  device  of  Satan,"  and  a  desire  expressed  by 
an  over-jealous  professor  of  Christianity,  to  ex- 
communicate some  young  persons  for  wearing 
masks,  and  acting  in  some  private  rustic 
theatricals. 

As  the  Greeks  and  Romans  were  lavish  of 
flowers  at  their  weddings,  so  do  the  modern 
Italians  delight  to  use  them  on  such  occasions. 
Here  is  a  picture  of  the  preparation  for  a  wed- 
ding at  Florence,  drawn  by  a  poetic  pencil : — 

"  1  stopped  beneath  the  walls 

Of  San  Mark's  old  cathedral  halls. 

I  entered,  and  beneath  the  roof, 

Ten  thousand  wax-lights  burnt  on  high, 

And  incense  from  the  censors  fumed 

As  for  some  great  solemnity. 

The  white-robed  choristers  were  singing; 

Their  cheerful  peals  the  bells  were  ringing ; 

Their  deep-voiced  music  floated  round, 

As  the  far  arches  sent  forth  sound — 

The  stately  organ : — and  fair  bands 

Of  younger  girls,  strewed  with  lavish  hands 

Violets  o'er  the  mosaic  floor: 

And  sang  while  scattering  the  sweet  store." 

L.  E.  L. 


122  FLORAL     CEREMONIES. 

Let  us  now  take  our  readers  to  a  northern 
clime,  where  the  mighty  heart  of  Nature  yet 
beats  warmly  beneath  her  rugged  exterior,  and 
the  bright  flowers  open  their  perfumed  chalices 
in  the  green  valleys,  heedless  of  the  snow- 
covered  mountains  which  frown  upon  them  on 
every  side: — to  Sweden,  where  "from  the 
bank  of  the  river  nearest  Semb,  a  little  fleet  of 
gaily  decorated  boats  is  pushing  off.  In  the 
principal  boat  sits  the  lady  of  Semb,  her  eyes 
turned  with  quiet  enjoyment  now  on  the  beau- 
tiful scenes  of  Nature,  now  on  the  still  more 
beautiful  objects  that  are  nearer  to  her — two 
happy  human  beings.  Beside  her,  more  like  a 
little  angel  than  a  child,  sits  the  little  Hulda ;  a 
garland  of  gay  flowers  twined  among  her  golden 
locks.  But  the  looks  of  all  were  turned  upon 
the  bride  and  bridegroom ;  and  they  were, 
indeed,  beautiful  to  look  upon,  so  inwardly 
happy  did  they  seem.  Other  boats  contained 
the  wedding  guests.  The  men  who  rowed  had 
all  garlands  on  their  yellow  straw  hats,  and 
thus  to  the  sounds  of  gay  music  they  passed  on 
to  the  chapel.  This  was  a  simple  building, 


FLORAL    CEREMONIES.  123 

with  no  other  ornament  than  a  beautiful  altar 
picture,  and  the  flowers  and  branches  of  trees, 
with  which  the  walls  and  floor  were  decorated 
in  honor  of  the  occasion."  Yes  ! — 

"  'Tis  a  morn  for  a  bridal,  the  merry  bride  bell 

Tolls  out  through  the  woodland  that  skirts  the  chapel. 

Do  you  not  hear  it  ringing  ?  Do  you  not  see 
the  gay  procession  pass  onward  ?  and  are  you 
not  aware  of  a  delicious  perfume  emanating 
from  the  flowers  which  bestrew  the  way,  and 
garlands  of  the  merry  company  : — 

"  But  other  lands  and  other  floral  rites, 
The  thought  poetic,  and  the  pen  invites." 

In  Eastern  nations  flowers  and  perfumes  have 
been  considered  one  of  the  indispensable  enjoy- 
ments of  the  higher  classes  of  society,  from  the 
remotest  antiquity.  From  those  nations  the 
Romans  appear  to  have  borrowed  this  delicate 
refinement,  and  to  have  carried  it  to  the  utmost 
excess  in  their  costly  entertainments.  They 
soon  began  to  consider  flowers  as  forming  a  very 
essential  article  in  their  festal  preparations  ;  and 


124  FLOEAL    CEREMONIES. 

it'  is  the  opinion  of  Baccius,  that,  at  their 
desserts,  the  number  of  their  flowers  far  ex- 
ceeded that  of  their  fruits.  The  odour  of 
flowers  was  thought  to  arouse  the  fainting  ap- 
petite, and  it  certainly  must  have  added  an 
ethereal  enjoyment  to  the  grosser  pleasures  of 
their  banqueting  boards. 

Flowers  are  not  only  used  as  a  stimulus  to 
the  palate,  or  that  two  senses  might  be  gratified 
at  one  time,  but  it  was  thought  that  certain 
plants  and  flowers  facilitated  the  functions  of 
the  brain,  and  assisted  materially  to  neutralize 
the  inebriating  qualities  of  wine.  Even  the 
warriors  did  not  hesitate  to  crown  themselves 
with  flowers  during  their  principal  repast. 
These  observations  are  equally  applicable  to 
the  Greeks,  as  to  the  Romans. 

Horace,  it  seems,  could  not  sit  down  to  his 
bachelor's  glass  of  wine  without  his  garland. 
This  lively  little  ode  occurs  at  the  conclusion  of 
his  first  book  :— 

"  I  tell  thee,  boy,  that  I  detest 
The  grandeur  of  a  Persian  feast, 
Not  for  me  the  Linden's  rind 
Shall  the  flowery  chaplet  bind. 


FLORAL    CEREMONIES.  1  '2 ") 

Then  search  not  where  the  curious  rose 

Beyond  his  season  loitering  grows  ; 

But  beneath  the  mantling  vine, 

While  I  quaff  the  flowing  wine, 

The  myrtle's  wreath  shall  crown  our  brows, 

While  you  shall  wait  and  I  carouse." 

TRANSLATED  BY  FRANCIS. 

•<  The  allusion  to  Persia  in  this  ode,"  says 
Phillips,  "confirms  our  idea,  that  the  taste  for 
flowers  came  to  Rome  from  the  East ;  garlands 
were  suspended  at  the  gates,  or  in  the  temples, 
where  feasts  or  solemn  rejoicings  were  held, 
and  at  all  places  where  public  joy  and  gaiety 
were  desired  ;"  thus,  in  the  play  of  "  All  for 
Love,"  Serapim  says — 

"  Set  before  your  doors 
The  images  of  all  your  sleeping  fathers, 
With  laurels  crowned ;  with  laurels  wreathe  your  posts, 
And  strew  with  flowers  the  pavement;  let  the  priest 
Do  present  sacrifice ;  pour  out  the  wine, 
And  call  the  gods  to  join  with  you  in  gladness." 

DRYDEN. 

And  again,  in  "  the  Distrest  Mother,"  we  find 
an  allusion  to  the  floral  decorations  which  it  was 
customary  to  place  in  the   hands  of  victims  in 
11* 


126  FLORAL     CEREMONIES. 

the  ancient  sacrifices,  at  which  the  priests  also 
appeared  crowned  with  flowers  — 

"  Thus  the  gay  victim  with  fresh  garlands  crowned, 
Pleased  with  the  sacred  pipe's  enlivening  sound, 
Through  gazing  crowds  in  solemn  state  proceed?, 
And  dressed  in  fatal  pomp,  magnificently  bleeds." 

PHILLIPS. 

"  In  the  annual  festivals  of  the  Terminalia,  the 
peasants  were  all  crowned  with  garlands  of 
flowers,"  says  Cicero,  and  from  "  Irving's  An- 
tiquities," we  learn  that  "  sacrifices  among  the 
Romans  were  of  different  kinds ;  the  place 
erected  for  offerings  was  called  ara  or  allare, 
an  altar  ;  it  was  erected  with  leaves  and  grass, 
adorned  with  flowers,  and  bound  with  woolen 
fillets."  And  this  author  further  tells  us,  that 
"  in  the  triumphal  processions  of  Rome  the 
streets  were  strewed  with  flowers,  and  the 
altars  smoked  with  incense."  Let  us  now  take 
a  picture  of  one  of  these  Roman  triumphs  ; 
speaking  of  the  Conqueror,  the  poet  says — 

He  comes,  and  with  a  port  so  proud, 
As  if  ho  tad  subdued  the  spacious  world 
And  all  Sinope's  streets  were  filled  with  such 


FLORAL    CEREMONIES.  127 

A  glut  of  people,  you  would  think  some  god 
'     llad  conquered  in  their  cause,  and  them  thus  ranked, 
That  he  might  make  his  entrance  on  their  heads  ! 
While  from  the  scaffolds,  windows,  tops  of  he 
Are  cast  such  gaudy  showers  of  garlands  down, 
That  e'en  the  cruwd  appear  like  conquerors, 
And  the  whole  city  seems  like  one  vast  meadow 
Set  all  with  flowers,  as  a  clear  heaven  with  star?." 

XATHANIEL  LEE. 

Here  is  another  by  a  more  modern  hand  : — 

"  Throughout  the  city  joyful  shouts  resound, 
The  gates  are  garlanded,  the  columns  bound  - 
With  victor  laurels,  while  from  lovely  hands 
Sweet  flowers  are  showered  upon  the  martial  bands 
As  in  glad  pomp  the  proud  processions  march 
Through  many  a  fair  arcade  and  trophied  arch." 

AGXES  STRICKLAND. 

And  yet  one  more  ;  it  is  by  T.  B.  Macauley  ; 
we  are  still  at  the  "  Seven-hilled  city  "  in  the 
time  of  her  pristine  vigour,  ere  she  had  become 
luxurious  and  effeminate;  hark  at  the  lo 
Triitmphe  which  swells  upon  the  gale  !  Hark 
to  the  shouts  of  the  multitude,  and  the  pealing 
of  the  silver-throated  trumpets!  It  is  the  feast 
of  the  twin  brothers,  Castor  and  Pollux,  who 
won  for  Rome  the  battle  of  the  Lake  Regillus : 


128  FLORAL    CEREMONIES. 

"  Ho,  trumpets,  sound  a  war-note ! 

Ho,  lietors  clear  the  way  ! 
The  knights  will  ride,  in  all  their  pride, 

Along  the  streets  to-day. 
To-day  the  doors  and  windows 

Are  hung  with  garlands  all 
From  Castor,  in  the  Forum, 

To  Mars,  without  the  wall. 
Each  knight  is  robed  in  purple, 

With  olive  each  is  crowned ; 
A  gallant  war-horse  under  each 

Paws  haughtily  the  ground. 


On  ride  they  to  the  Forum, 
While  laurel-boughs  and  flowers, 

From  house-tops  and  from  windows, 
Fall  on  their  crests  in  showers. 


Unto  the  Great  Twin  Brethren, 

Lo !  all  the  people  throng, 
With  chaplets  and  with  offerings, 

With  music  and  with  song. 
While  flows  the  Yellow  River, 

While  stands  the  Sacred  Hill, 
The  proud  Ides  of  Quintilis 

Shall  have  such  honor  still." 

LAYS  OF  ANCIENT  ROME. 

On  the   subject   of  chaplets  and   garlands   so 


FLORAL    CEREMONIES. 

much  has  been  said  and  written,  that  we  might 
fill  a  volume  with  mere  quotations ;  by  the 
ancients  beauty  and  divinity  were  alike  crowned 
with  them — the  objects  of  their  earthly  love, 
and  of  their  unearthly  adoration ;  they  have 
equally  graced  the  altar  and  the  domestic 
hearth;  the  temple, the  palace, and  the  cottage; 
and  even  down  to  the  present  day,  wherever 
shrines  and  images  are  set  up  as  visible  mani- 
festations of  things  holy  and  invisible,  there  do 
wreaths  and  garlands  of  flowers  continue  to  be 
offered  and  suspended  ;  and  among  those  who, 
like  ourselves,  reject  as  sinful,  or,  at  least  quite 
unnecessary,  all  created  forms  and  vain  repre- 
sentations of  the  Deity,  they  are  considered  as 
the  fittest  ornaments  for  female  loveliness  and 
childish  innocence ;  and  the  most  beautiful 
objects  wherewith  we  can  regale  the  senses  in 
seasons  of  festivity  and  rejoicing. 

As  we  look  upon  these  pictures  we  arc 
transported  in  fancy  to  Arcadian  fields  and 
groves ;  the  green  valley  and  the  sparkling 
rivulet  are  before  us ;  the  sound  of  the  shep- 
herd's pipe,  the  soft  bleating  of  the  sheep,  and 


130  FLORAL     CEREMONIES. 

the  drowsy  hum  of  the  wild-bees  meets  our  ears, 
while  the  perfume  of  the  thyme  and  other  odor- 
iferous plants  and  flowers  steal  over  the  senses 
with  a  soothing  influence,  like  slumber ;  we 
dream,  yet  we  are  awake  ;  we  behold  realities 
as  though  they  were  but  phantoms — creatures 
of  imagination.  All  is  shadowy,  indistinct,  yet 
full  of  beauty  and  intelligence.  Lo,  you  now, 
you  happy-looking  group  of  men  and  women, 
laden  with  bright-hued  blossoms,  and  verdant 
boughs,  piping  and  singing  so  merrily  as  they 
cross  the  plain.  Let  us  question  him  who  sits 
watching  his  sheep  by  the  stream,  that  glides 
so  glassly  along  the  foot  of  the  green  hill : — 

''  From  whence  come  all  these  shepherd  swains 
And  lovely  nymphs  attired  in  green  ?" 

Hark,  he  answers, — 

"  From  gathering  garlands  on  the  plains 
To  crown  our  fair,  the  shepherds'  queen." 

Nearer  they  come,  yet  nearer,  and  now  the 
words  of  their  song  can  be  distinguished  ; — 

"  Bring  hither  the  pinke  and  purple  columhine, 
With  gillyflowers  • 


FLORAL      CERE  MONIES. 

Bring  sweet  carnations,  and  sops  in  wine, 
Worn  of  paramours. 

Strew  me  the  ground  with  daff-a-down-dillies, 
And  cowslips,  and  kingcups,  and  loved  lilies. 

The  pretty  paunce, 

And  the  chevisaunce, 
Shall  match  with  the  flower-de-luce." 

M.  DRAYTON. 

Let  us  follow-  the  singers  through  yon  grove  of 
myrtles  into  the  open  space  beyond,  where 
upon  a  grassy  hillock,  a  throne  is  erected,  of 
turf,  overarched  with  boughs  reft  from  the 
neighboring  trees,  and  literally  covered  with 
wreaths  and  clusters  of  the  fairest  flowers;  and 
lo  !  the  queen  ! — 

"  See  where  she  sits  upon  the  grassie  greene, 

A  seemly  sight ! 
Yclad  in  scarlet,  like  a  ma\den  queene, 

And  ermines  white. 
Upon  her  head  a  crimson  coronet, 
With  daffodils  and  damask  roses  set : 

Bay-leaves  betweene, 

And  primroses  greene 
Embellish  the  sweete  violet" — SPENCER. 


i   . 


132  FLORAL     CEREMONIES. 


HYMN  OF  THE  TURKISH  CHILDREN. 

BY   MISS    PARDOE. 

A  recent  traveller  in  Turkey  describes  an  interesting 
ceremony  witnessed  by  her,  performed  at  a  time  of  exces- 
sive drought.  "At  dusk,  the  village  children,  walking 
two  and  two,  and  each  carrying  a  bunch  of  wild  flowers, 
drew  near  the  cistern  in  their  turn,  and  sang  to  one  of 
the  thrilling  melodies  of  the  country,  a  hymn  of  supplica- 
tion." 

Allah  !  Father  !  hear  us  ; 

Our  souls  are  faint  and  weak : 
A  cloud  is  on  our  mother's  brow, 

A  tear  upon  her  cheek  : 
We  fain  would  chase  that  cloud  away, 

And  stay  that  sad'ning  tear  ; 
For  this  it  is  to-night  we 

Allah!  Father  !— hear  ! 


FLORAL     CEHE  MONIES.  133 

We  seek  the  cooling  fountain, 

Alas  !  we  seek  in  vain  ; 
The  cloud  that  crowns  the  mountain 

Melts  not  away  in  rain. 
The  stream  is  shrunk,  which  through  our  plain 

Once  glided  bright  and  clear  ; 
Oh !  ope  the  secret  springs  again — 

Allah!  Father  !— hear  ! 

We  bring  thee  flowers,  sweet  flowers, 

All  withered  in  their  prime  ; 
No  moisture  glistens  on  their  leaves, 

They  sickened  ere  their  time. 
And  we,  like  them,  shall  pass  away, 

Ere  wintry  days  are  near  ; 
Shouldst  thou  not  hearken  as  we  pray— 

Allah  !  Father  ! — hear  1 


134  FLORAL      CERE  51  OX  IE  S. 


HINDOO  GIRLS  FLOATING  THEIR 
TRIBUTARY  OFFERINGS  DOWN   THE  GANGES. 

BY   MISS    LAXDON. 

As  they  passed  along  a  sequestered  river  after  sunset, 
they  saw  a  young  Hindoo  girl  upon  the  bank,  whose  em- 
ployment seemed  to  them  so  strange,  that  they  stopped 
their  palanquins  to  observe  her.  She  had  lighted  a  small 
lamp,  filled  with  oil  of  cocoa,  and  placing  it  on  an  earthen 
dish,  adorned  icith  a  wreath  of  jloiccrs,  had  committed  it, 
with  a  trembling  hand,  to  the  stream,  and  was  now 
anxiously  watching  its  progress  down  the  current,  heed- 
less of  the  gay  cavalcade  which  had  drawn  up  beside  her. 
LALLA  ROOKH  was  all  curiosity; — when  one  of  her  at- 
tendants, who  had  lived  upon  the  banks  of  the  Ganges, 
(where  this  ceremony  is  so  frequent,  that  often  in  the 
dusk  of  the  evening,  the  river  is  seen  glittering  all  over 
with  lights,  like  the  Oton-tala,  or  sea  of  stars,)  informed 
the  princess,  that  it  was  the  usual  way  in  which  the 
friends  of  those  who  had  gone  on  dangerous  voyages 
offered  up  vows  for  their  safe  return.  If  the  lamp  sunk 
immediately,  the  omen  was  disastrous  ;  but  if  it  went 
shining  down  the  stream,  and  continued  to  burn  till  en- 
tirely out  of  sight,  the  return  of  the  beloved  object  was 
considered  as  certain.  LALLA  ROOKII. 


FLORAL     CEREMONIES.  135 

They  bend  above  the  moonlit  stream 
With  gathered  fruit  and  flowers 

The  last  on  which  the  sun  has  left 
The  earlier  rosy  hours. 

One  sends  a  vow  to  him  afar — 

Oh  ! — never  can  the  heart 
Know  half  the  love  it  cherishes 

Until  it  comes  to  part. 

A  thousand  things  are  then  recalled, 
Though  scarcely  marked  at  first ; 

But  lingering  thoughts  in  after  hours 
Betray  how  they  were  nurs'd. 

Another  sends  a  little  boat 

Upon  its  happier  way  ; 
She  knows  to-morrow  will  restore 

The  eyes  she  loved  to-day. 

They  bend  with  all  the  eager  hopes, 

The  confidence  of  youth, 
Which  makes  the  future  it  believes, 

And  trusts  itself  with  truth. 


136  FLORAL    CEREMONIES. 

And  never  Grecian  chisel  formed 
Shapes  of  more  perfect  grace, 

Than  by  the  moonlit  Ganges  bend 
Each  o'er  her  mirrored  face. 

Ah  !  love  takes  many  shapes ;  at  first 

It  comes  as  flashes  fly 
That  bear  the  lightning  on  their  wings, 

And  then  in  darkness  die. 

But  after  comes  a  steadier  light, 

A  long  and  lasting  dream  ; 
Like  the  full  heaven  which  the  sun 

Flings  down  on  life's  dark  stream. 

One  lingers — for  she  dares  not  trust 

Her  lamp  upon  the  wave  ; 
She  knows  the  omen  ere  it  come — 

Her  heart  is  its  own  grave. 

There  is  a  love  that  in  the  soul 

Burns  silent  and  alone, 
Though  all  of  earthly  happiness, 

Has  long,  too  long  been  flown. 


FLORAL    CEKEMOJJIES.  137 

But  like  the  lotus,  whose  soft  depths 

Receive  the  morning  sun  ; 
The  true  fond  flower  still  looks  to  heaven, 

Though  light  and  day  are  done. 

And  she,  amid  her  gladder  friends, 

Seems  pensive  on  the  strand  ; 
And  keeps  her  fairy  bark  unlaunched 
Beside  her  trembling  hand. 

Why  should  she  send  her  fairy  freight 

To  question  future  pain  ? 
She  knows  her  utter  misery — 

She  loves,  and  loves  in  vain 

I  pray  his  pardon — he  who  traced 

The  graceful  forms  I  see  ; 
Oh,  magic  painter  to  thy  skill 

The  spirit  yields  its  key. 

The  treasures  of  these  distant  lands 

Are  given  to  thy  will ; 
But  thou  hast  yet  a  dearer  charm 

The  heart  obeys  thee  still. 
12* 


138  FLORAL      CEREMONIES. 

After  the  feast  of  Whitsuntide,  says  Vo.v  TEITZ,  the 
young  Russian  maidens  seek  the  banks  of  the  Nova,  and 
fling  in  its  waters  wreaths  of  flowers.  These  are  tokens 
of  affection  to  absent  friends.  Our  own  modern  Anacreon 
thus  addresses  the  river  in  which  7ti«  sirppositious  wreaths 
are  cast: — 

Flow  on,  thou  shining  river, 

But  ere  thou  reach  the  sea, 
Seek  Ella's  bow'r  and  give  her 

The  wreaths  I  fling  o'er  thee  : 
And  tell  her  thus  : — If  she'll  be  mine 

The  current  of  our  lives  shall  be, 
With  joys  along  their  course  to  shine 

Like  those  sweet  flowers  on  thee. 

But  if  in  wandering  thither, 

Thou  find  she  mocks  thy  pray'r, 
Then  leave  those  wreaths  to  wither 

Upon  the  cold   bank  there. 
And  tell  her  thus  : — When  youth  is  o'er 

Her  lone  and  loveless  charms  shall  be 
Thrown  by  upon  life's  weedy  shore, 

Like  those  sweet  flowers  from  thee  ! 


FUNERAL    FLOWERS. 

"FLOWERS,  wherefore  do  ye  bloom? 

AVe  strew  the  pathway  to  the  tomb!" 

J.  MONTGOMERY. 

"Here  is  the  mother  with  her  sons  and  daughters  : 
The  barren  wife,  the  long  demurring  maid, 
AVhose  lonely  unappropriated  sweets 
Smiled  like  yon  knot  of  cowslips  on  the  cliff, 
Not  to  be  come  at  by  the  willing  hand: 
The  sober  widow,  and  the  young  green  virgin, 
Cropped  like  a  rose  before  'tis  fully  blown 
Or  half  its  worth  disclosed. — BLAIR'S  GRATE. 

" Pleasant,"  says  the  Gaelic  bard,  "is  the 
joy  of  grief!  it  is  like  the  shower  of  spring, 
when  it  softens  the  branch  of  the  oak,  and  the 
young  leaf  lifts  its  green  head."  In  the  pe- 
rusal of  many,  indeed,  we  believe  most,  of  the 
poems  which  follow,  the  real  mourner  may, 
without  indulging  a  morbid  spirit  of  repining, 
find  comfort  and  consolation  ;  and  for  those  yet 

unvisited  by  sorrow — the  gay  and  the  thought- 

139 


140  FUNERAL     FLOWERS. 

less — it  is  good  to  be  sometimes  reminded  of 
Death,  and  the  Grave  ;  not  to  fill  them  with 
gloomy  thoughts  and  forebodings,  but  to  lead 
them  to  the  contemplation  of  higher  and  more 
lasting  enjoyments  than  this  life  affords.  A 
memento  mori  is  not  necessarily  sad  and  for- 
bidding, nor  is  the  dirge-note  always  a  fearful 
sound,  for  to  the  mind  rightly  trained  and  con- 
stituted, they  speak  of  a  blissful  hereafter,  and 
a  glorified  existence,  for  which  this  is  but  a 
state  of  preparation.  Knowing  and  feeling  this, 
we  may  stand  in  the  church-yard  without  awe 
or  dread,  and  looking  through  Death's  open 
portals,  into  the  regions  of  everlasting  happiness 
beyond,  exclaim  : — 

"The  first  tabernacle  to  HOPE  we  will  build, 

And  look  for  the  sleepers  around  us  to  rise; 
The  second  to  FAITH,  which  ensures  it  fulfilled; 

And  the  third  to  the  LAMB  of  the  great  SACRIFICE, 
Who  bequeathed  us  them  both  when  He  rose  to  the  skies." 
HERBERT  KXOWLES. 

Let  us  ever  remember,  with  EPHOX,  that 
"  the  flower  sheds  the  same  fragrance  if  it 
blooms  in  Eden  or  on  a  grave,  and  the  same 


FUXEEAL     FLOWEKS.  141 

song  which  awakes  the  lark  at  morn  may  lull 
the  dying  at  evening  to  repose ;"  and  also 
that— 

"The  sweetest  flower  in  pleasure's  path 

Will  bloom  on  sorrow's  grave." — JOHN  CLARE. 

• 

This  life  is  uncertain,  and  full  of  vicissitudes  ; 
its  pleasures  are  short-lived  and  fleeting.  Change 
is  the  element  in  which  we  move,  breathe,  and 
have  our  being,  and  no  one  can  tell  how  soon 
the  vital  spark  may  be  quenched  within  him — 
how  soon  sorrow  may  fall  upon  him,  though  he 
be  now  full  of  health,  and  life,  and  happiness. 
Therefore  it  is  well  to  contemplate  the  tomb, 
and  to  be  ever  prepared  for  the  li-fe  that  is  to 
come.  The  poet  asks  :— 

"  Beauteous  flowers,  why  do  ye  spread 
Upon  the  monuments  of  the  dead?" — COWLEV. 

And  we  may  answer,  that  we  place  them  there 
as  emblems  of  the  frailty  of  human  existence, 
and  of  the  evanescent  nature  of  its  brightest 
enjoyments ;  they  also  serve  to  remind  us  of 
that  better  land,  whither  we  hope  the  souls  of 
the  departed  are  gone. 


1-12  FUNEBAL     FLOWERS. 

It  was  not  in  their  sports  oniy,  that  the 
Greeks  were  so  lavish  of  flowers  ;  they  crowned 
their  dead  with  them,  and  the  mourners  wore 
them,  in  their  funeral  ceremonies.  That  they 
also  planted  them  on  the  graves  of  the  departed, 
or  at  least,  deemed  it  pleasant  and  fitting  that 
they  should  be  there,  we  may  learn  from  this 
passage  of  one  of  their  great  dramatists.  In  the 
"  Agamemnon,"  the  chorus,  lamenting  over 
Alcestis,  says : — 

"  Oh,  lightly  on  thy  hallowed  grave 
Lie  the  green  turf,  the  flow'ret  wave." — JEscHYLrs. 

Indeed,  flowers  seem  to  have  been  to  this  taste- 
ful people,  a  sort  of  poetic  language,  whereby 
they  expressed  the  intensity  of  feelings  to  which 
they  found  common  language  inadequate. 

A  modern  poetess,  who  has  caught,  and  finely 
transfused  into  our  language,  the  spirit  of  an- 
tique song,  thus  makes  a  Grecian  mother  lament 
the  loss  of  her  son,  supposed  to  have  perished 
at  sea  : — 

'•Where  art  thou — where? — Had  I  but  lingering  prest 
On  thy  cold  lips  the  last,,  long  kiss, — but  smoothed 
The  parted  ringlets  of  thy  shining  hair 


FCNERAL      FLOWERS.  143 

With  love's  fond  touch,  my  heart's  cry  had  been  stilled 
Into  a  voiceless  grief; — I  would  have  strewed 
With  all  the  pale  flowers  of  the  vernal  wood?, — 
White  violets,  and  the  mournful  hyacinth, 
And  frail  anemone,  thy  marble  brow, 
In  slumber  beautiful ! — I  would  have  heaped 
Sweet  boughs  and  precious  odours  on  thy  pyre, 
And  with  thine  own  shorn  tresses  hung  thine  urn, 
And  many  a  garland  of  the  pallid  rose — 
But  thou  liest  far  away  .' — No  funeral  c haunt, 
Save  the  wild  mourning  of  the  wave,  is  thine; — 
No  pyre,  save  haply  some  long  buried  wreck  ;  — 
Thou  that  we"   fairest — thou  that  wert  most  loved  !" 

3Ii:s.  HI:MAXS. 

Reference  is  here  made  to  the  funeral  pyre, 
which  it  seems  the  Greeks  were  wont  to  deck 
and  garland  with  flowers,  and  render  odorous 
with  spices  and  other  fragrant  things.  It  was 
not  unusual  for  a  statue,  called  the  Funeral 
Genius,  to  be  placed  in  the  groves,  wherein 
were  deposited  the  ashes  of  the  departed.  To 
one  of  these  our  authoress  has  written  an 
address,  from  which  we  quote  : — 

"Flowers  are  upon  thy  brow,  for  so  the  dead 

Wore  crowned  of  old,  with  pale  spring  flow  ers  like  these; 
Sleep  on,  thine  eye  hath  sunk,  yet  softly  shed, 
As  from  the  wing  of  some  faint  southern  breeze; 


144  FDNEEAL     FLOWERS. 

And  the  pine  boughs  o'ershadow  thee  with  gloom 
Which  of  the  grove  seems  breathing — not  the  tomb. 

HEMAXS. 

Let  us  now  turn  to  the  Romans,  who  imitated, 
and  even  went  beyond  the  people  last  alluded 
to,  in  most  of  their  luxuries  and  refinements  ; 
we  have  already  had  occasion  to  show  how 
lavish  these  were  of  flowers  in  their  festivals 
and  religious  rites  ;  we  will  now  speak  of  those 
which  relate  to  the  memory  and  sepulture  of 
the  dead.  OWEN  has  thus  translated  an  apos- 
trophe from  the  Latin  : — 

"  May  gentlest  earth  our  fathers'  shades  enclose, 
Light  be  their  turf,  and  peaceful  their  repose ; 
Forth,  from  their  urns,  the  breathing  crocus  fling, 
The  balmy  sweets  of  an  eternal  spring ! 
Who  willed  that  to  the  tutor  should  be  showed 
The  filial  reverence  to  a  parent  owed." 

And  DRYDEN  has  given  us,  in  the  following 
words,  a  noble  version  of  that  portion  of  An- 
chises'  speech  to  his  son,  in  which  he  alludes 
to  bestrewing  the  funeral  pile  of  Marcellus 
with  flowers  : — 

"  Full  canisters  of  fragrant  lilies  bring, 
Mixed  with  the  purple  roses  of  the  spring : 


F  V  .X  K  R  A  L      FLOWERS.  115 

Let  rne  with  fun'ral  flowers  his  body  strow; 
This  gift  which  parents  to  their  children  owe, 
This  unavailing  gift,  at  least,  I  may  bestow  !" 

VIRGIL. 

From  these  t\vo  extracts  we  may  gather,  that  it 
was  considered  a  duty  incumbent  on  children, 
to  deck  with  flowers  the  bodies  and  places  of 
sepulture  of  their  parents,  and  also  on  them  to 
pay  similar  honours  to  those  of  their  offspring. 
In  the  same  poem  as  that  from  which  the  last 
quotation  was  taken,  we  have  these  lines  : — 

"  The  fatal  pile  they  rear 
Within  the  secret  court,  exposed  in  air. 
The  cloven  holms  and  pines  are  heaped  on  high ; 
And  garlands  in  the  hollow  spaces  lie. 
Sad  cypress,  vervain,  yew,  compose  the  wreath, 
And  every  baleful  flower  denoting  death." — VIRGIL. 

This  was  to  be  the  place  of  destruction,  by  fire, 
of  the  self-immolated  queen  Dido,  and  we  are 
here  strongly  reminded  of  the  Hindoo  custom 
of  burning  widows  on  the  funeral  pyre  of  their 
husbands.  The  poet  says : — 

"The  widowed  Indian,  when  her  lord  expires, 
Mounts  the  dread  pile,  and  braves  the  fun'ral  fires." 

CAMPBELL. 

• 


146  FUNEKAt     FLOWEBS. 

And  DIODORUS  tells  how  she  goes  ((  crowned 
by  the  women  of  her  house,"  meaning,  no 
doubt,  crowned  with  flowers. 

When  a  woman  in  Tripoli  dies,  a  large  bou- 
quet of  fresh  flowers,  if  they  can  be  procured, 
if  not,  of  artificial,  is  fastened  at  the  head  of  her 
coffin.  Upon  the  death  of  a  Moorish  lady  of 
quality,  every  place  is  filled  with  fresh  flowers 
and  burning  perfumes :  at  the  head  of  the  corpse 
is  placed  a  large  bouquet,  partly  artificial,  and 
partly  natural,  and  richly  ornamented  with  silver. 
TULLY,  who  describes  these  customs,  mentions 
a  lady  of  high  rank,  who  regularly  visited  the 
tomb  of  her  daughter,  who  had  been  three 
years  dead  ;  she  always  kept  it  in  repair,  and 
with  the  exception  of  the  great  mosque,  it  was 
one  of  the  grandest  buildings  in  Tripoli.  From 
the  time  of  the  young  lady's  death,  the  tomb 
had  always  been  supplied  with  the  most  expen- 
sive flowers,  placed  in  beautiful  vases;  and,  in 
addition  to  these,  a  great  quantity  of  fresh 
Arabian  jessamine  blossoms,  threaded  on  thin 
slips  of  the  palm  leaf,  were  hung  in  festoons 
and  tassels  about  this  revered  sepulchre.  The 


FUNERAL     FLOWERS.  147 

mausoleum  of  the  royal  family,  which  is  called 
7\trbor,  is  of  the  purest  white  marble,  and  is 
filled  with  an  immense  quantity  of  fresh  flowers ; 
most  of  the  tombs  being  dressed  with  festoons 
of  the  Arabian  jessamine,  and  large  branches 
of  variegated  flowers,  consisting  of  orange, 
myrtle,  red  and  white  roses,  etc.  They  afford 
a  perfume  which  those  who  are  not  habituated 
to  such  choice  flowers  can  scarcely  conceive. 
We  may  imagine  the  bereaved  mother,  above 
spoken  of,  addressing  the  shade  of  the  departed 
in  words  like  those  by  PAUL  THE  SILENTIARY  : — 

"Sweet  maid,  thy  parents  fondly  thought 
To  show  thy  bride-bed,  not  thy  bicr.j 
But  thou  hast  left  a  being,  fraught 

With  wiles,  and  toils,  and  anxious  fear. 
For  me  remains  a  journey  drear, 
For  thee  a  blessed  eternal  prime, 

Untiring,  in  thy  short  career, 
Youth's  blossom  with  the  fruit  of  time." 

TRANSLATED  ur  BRAND. 

Like  those  of  the  modern  Turks,  the  magnifi- 
cent mausoleums  of  the  Persian  and  Mogul 
emperors  and  kings,  and  those  which  they 
erected  to  perpetuate  the  memory  of  some  of 


148  FCXERAL     FLOWERS. 

their  favourite  wives,  were  surrounded  with 
beautiful  gardens,  and  the  representation  of 
flowers  in  gems,  and  costly  marbles,  enriched 
the  gorgeous  interiors  of  these  "  sculptured 
tombs  of  Hindoostan." 

In  CHATEAUBRIAND'S  delightful  romance, 
called  after  its  heroine,  ATALA,  with  which 
most  of  our  readers  must  be  acquainted,  we 
have  these  allusions  to  the  funeral  customs  of 
some  of  the  tribes  of  North  America  :  "  We 
passed  near  the  tomb  of  a  child,  which  served 
as  a  boundary  to  two  nations.  It  was  placed 
near  the  public  road,  according  to  custom,  that 
virgins,  in  going  to  the  fountain,  might  breathe, 
and  receive  into  their  bosoms  the  soul  of  the 
little  innocent,  and  restore  it  to  their  country. 

"  We  then  saw  newly  married  brides,  who, 
desiring  the  joys  of  maternity,  sought  among 
the  flowers  the  soul  of  the  infant,  which  they 
imagined  to  be  hovering  around.  At  last  came 
the  mother,  and  placing  a  bunch  of  maize  and 
lilies  upon  the  grave,  she  seated  herself  upon 
the  turf,  and  thus  addressed  her  departed 
child :— 


FUNERAL     FLOWERS.  140 

"  l  Why  should  I  deplore  thy  early  grave, 
oh  !  my  first-born  ?  When  the  newly  fledged 
bird  first  seeks  his  food,  he  finds  many  bitter 
grains.  Thou  never  felt  the  pangs  of  sorrow, 
and  thy  heart  was  never  polluted  by  the 
poisonous  breath  of  men.  The  rose  that  is 
nipped  in  the  bud,  dies  enclosed  with  all  its 
perfumes,  like  thee,  my  son,  with  all  thy 
innocence.  Happy  are  those  who  die  in 
infancy  ;  they  have  never  known  the  joys  or 
sorrows  of  a  mother.'  " 

How  touchingly  expressed  is  this  chastened 
sorrow  of  the  Indian  matron  :  we  cannot  refrain 
from  giving,  as  a  companion  to  her  apostrophe, 
the  following  beautiful  epitaph  on  a  child : — 

"  Here  she  lies,  a  pretty  bud, 
Lately  made  of  flesh  and  blood ; 
Who  so  soon  fell  fast  asleep 
As  her  little  eyes  did  peep. 
(!iM-  hiT  xii-i'ii-iiiys,  but  no!  ftir 
The  earth  that  lightly  i-o\urs  her." 

HUBERT  HERRICK. 

In  reference  to  the  superstition,  regarding  the 

supposed  existence  of  the  soul  of  a  departed 
13* 


150  FUNERAL     FLOWEKS. 

infant  in  the  flowers,  we  quote  this  passage  from 
the  work  above  referred  to: — "I  gathered  a 
rose  from  a  magnolia,  and  placed  it,  yet  moist 
with  the  dew,  upon  the  head  of  Atala,  who  still 
slept.  I  hoped  that,  according  to  my  religion, 
the  soul  of  some  new-born  infant  would  descend 
on  the  crystal  dew  of  this  flower,  and  that  a 
prosperous  dream  would  convey  it  to  the  bosom 
of  my  beloved."  Stay  !  we  have  another  floral 
epitaph,  which,  as  it  relates  to  a  child,  we 
should  like  to  quote  in  this  place  ;  it  is  from  a 
country  church-yard  in  Ireland  : — 

"A  little  spirit  slumbers  here, 
Who  to  one  heart  was  ever  dear. 
Oh !  he  was  more  than  life  or  light, 
Its  thought  by  day — its  dream  by  night. 
The  chill  winds  came;  the  young  flower  faded, 
And  died ;  the  grave  its  sweetness  shaded. 
Fair  boy  !  thou  shouldst  have  wept  for  me, 
Not  I  have  had  to  mourn  for  thee ; 
Yet  not  long  shall  my  sorrowing  be — 
These  roses  I  have  planted  round, 
To  deck  thy  dear,  sad,  sacred  ground, 
When  spring  gales  next  these  roses  wave, 
They'll  blush  upon  thy  mother's  grave." 

Let  us  now  return  to  ATALA — alas  !  she  died  ' 


FUNERAL     tLOWEES.  151 

and  exquisitely  pictured  is  the  scene  of  watching 
over  her,  previous  to  interment : — «  The  pious 
anchorite  ceased  not  to  pray  during  the  whole 
night.  I  sat  in  silence  on  the  top  of  Atala's 
funeral  couch  :  how  often  had  I  supported  her 
sleeping  head  upon  my  knees,  and  how  often 
had  I  bent  over  her  beauteous  form,  listening 
to  her,  and  inhaling  her  perfumed  breath  ;  but 
now  no  soft  murmur  issued  from  her  motionless 
bosom,  and  it  was  in  vain  that  I  waited  for  my 
beloved  to  awake.  The  moon  supplied  her 
pale  light  to  the  funeral  eve  ;  she  rose  at  mid- 
night as  a  fair  virgin  that  weeps  over  the  bier 
of  a  departed  friend  ;  it  covered  the  whole 
scene  with  a  deep  melancholy,  displaying  the 
aged  oaks  and  flowing  rivers.  From  time  to 
time  the  cenobite  plunged  a  bunch  of  flowers 
into  consecrated  water,  and  bathed  the  couch  of 
death  with  the  heavenly  dew,  repeating,  in  a 
solemn  voice,  some  verses  from  an  ancient  poet 
called  JOB  : — 

"He  cometh  forth  like  a  flower,  and  is  cut  down;  ho 
flecth  also  as  a  shadow,  and  continueth  not 

"  Wherefore  is  light  given  to  him  that  is  in  misery  ? 
and  life  unto  the  bitter  of  soul?" 


152  FUNEBAL     FLOWERS. 


t(  Atala  lay  stretched  upon  a  couch  of  sensitive 
plants  ;  her  feet,  head,  and  shoulders,  were  un- 
covered, and  her  hair  was  adorned  with  a  flower 
of  a  magnolia,  it  was  the  same  flower  which  I 
had  placed  upon  the  maiden's  head." 

"Thus  have  I  seen  a  rose  with  rising  morn, 
Unfold  its  glowing  bloom,  sweet  to  the  smell, 
And  lovely  to  the  eye,  when  a  keen  wind 
Hath  torn  its  blushing  leaves,  and  laid  it  low, 
Stripped  of  its  sweets." — MICHAEL  BRUCE. 

'These  lines  may  well  apply  to  the  gentle  and 
lovely  being  who  was  laid  at  rest  in  the  depths 
of  the  Indian  forest ;  and  in  allusion  to  the 
burial  places  of  whose  countrymen,  CHATEAU- 
BRIAND thus  writes  : — "  I  have  seen  memorable 
monuments  to  Crassus  and  to  Caesar,  but  I 
prefer  the  airy  tombs  of  the  Indians,  those  mau- 
soleums of  flowers  and  verdure,  refreshed  by 
the  morning  dew ;  embalmed  and  waved  by 
the  breeze  on  the  same  branch  where  the  black- 
bird builds  his  nest,  and  utters  forth  his  plain- 
tive melody." 

But  let  us  leave  the  mighty  forests  and  far 
sweeping  rivers  of  the  West,  and  come  to  our 


FUNEIIAL     FLOWERS.  l.>! 

own  country,  first  giving  a  look  into  the  Grecian 
Archipelago,  to  see  if  we  can  trace  any  remains 
of  the  floral  customs  of  the  ancient  dwellers  in 
those  (l  rocky  islands  of  the  JEgean  sea." 
Hush!  tread  softly  through  the  "dusky  cor- 
ridor," and  look  into  that  dimly-lighted  room  ; 
what  see  we  there  ?  'Tis  the  Corsair's  bride  — 
poor  Medora  !  —  stretched  lifeless  on  the  bier  :  — 

"  In  life  itself  she  was  so  still  and  fair, 
That  death  with  gentler  aspect  withered  there; 
And  the  cold  flowers  her  colder  hand  contained, 
In  that  last  grasp  so  tenderly  were  strained, 
As  if  she  scarcely  felt,  but  feigned  a  sleep, 
And  made  it  almost  mockery  to  weep."  —  BYRON. 

In  the  Levant,  then,  we  are  told,  by  him  who 
drew  this  picture  —  it  is  still  the  custom  to  strew 
flowers  on  the  bodies  of  the  dead,  and  in  the 
hands  of  young  persons  to  place  a  nosegay. 
Can  we  not  find  a  dirge  for  this  heart-broken 
lady  ?  Aye,  here  it  is,  very  sweet  and  appro- 


"Weep  not,  weep  not,  she  is  dead, 
Cold  and  dreamless  now  she  lyeth 

SThero  the  damp  dull  clay  is  spread, 
And  the  death-worm  sigheth. 


FUNERAL     FLOWERS. 

"  Lay  a  white  rose  on  her  breast, 

Pied  violets  dim,  and  cypress  sere, 
That  the  scent  of  flowers  may  rest 
In  her  wintry  sepulchre." — EPHOX. 

In  France — La  Belle  France! — the  land  of  the 
Troubadour  and  Minnesinger,  they,  perhaps 
more  than  any  other  nation  of  modern  times, 
cherish  the  memory  of  the  dead,  by  ornament- 
ing their  places  of  sepulture  with  the  finest 
flowers,  often  renewing  the  garlands,  and  re- 
placing such  plants  as  decay  with  vigorous  and 
costly  ones  ;  this  is  especially  the  case  in  the 
South  of  France,  where  the  custom  is  of  very 
ancient  date,  of  expressing  both  love  and  hatred 
for  the  dead  ;  the  first  by  rearing  only  the  most 
beautiful  and  sweet-scented  flowers  on  the 
grave  ;  and  the  latter,  by  sowing  around  the 
seeds  of  such  plants  as  were,  for  some  reason 
or  other,  regarded  as  obnoxious.  Let  us  illus- 
trate our  meaning  by  a  picture,  contrasting  the 
two  graves  of  the  loved  and  the  hated — the 
betrayer  and  the  betrayed  : — 

"  Wild  are  the  tales  which  of  that  grave  are  told : — 
Around  it  grows  each  rank  and  noxious  weed; — 
The  poisonous  toad-stool  in  that  corner  thrives; — 


FUNERAL     FLOWERS.  155 

There  shrieks  the  night-bird  from  the  blasted  yew, 
Which  doth  exclude  the  gladdening  light  of  Heaven. 
By  all  unhallowed  things  that  spot  is  banned  ; 
The  path  which  erst  lay  near  it  is  o'ergrown ; — 
No  one  could  pass  that  fearful  grave  at  night! 

"And  Ella  lies  where  yonder  blushing  rose 
And  jessamine  enclasp  that  simple  tomb; — 
That  spot  the  setting  sun  delights  to  kiss; 
And  there  the  moonbeams  shed  their  softest  smile; 
The  daisy  and  the  cowslip  shine  around; 
And  on  each  May-day  morn,  upon  that  stone 
Is  seen  »  beauteous  wreath  of  fairest  flowers." — S.  T.  L 

In  Switzerland,  also,  as  well  as  in  Wales,  and 
some  other  parts  of  Britain,  flowers  are  planted 
by  the  hand  of  affection  on  the  graves  of  de- 
parted relatives.  It  is  a  touching  and  beautiful 
custom,  and  in  both  the  above-named  countries, 
even  the  peasant  may  often  be  seen  bending 
orer  the  hallowed  turf,  and  as  he  inserts  into 
the  sod  some  new  plant  or  flower,  he  performs 
the  act,  which  testifies  of  his  affectionate  re- 
membrance, with  a  feeling  and  a  delicacy 
which  do  honour  to  his  unsophisticated  heart. 
In  Glamorganshire,  it  is  yet  a  custom  to  strew 
the  bed  whereon  a  corpse  rests,  with  fragrant 


156  FUNERAL      FLO  WE  US. 

flowers.  So,  in  the  South  of  England,  a  chaplet 
of  white  roses  is  borne  before  the  corpse  of  a 
maiden  by  a  young  girl,  nearest  in  age  and  re- 
semblance to  the  deceased,  and  afterwards  hung 
up  over  her  accustomed  seat  at  church.  They 
are  emblematical,  says  WASHINGTON  IRVING,  of 
purity  and  the  crown  of  glory,  which  she  has 
received  in  heaven  : — 

"A  garland  shall  be  formed 
By  art  and  nature's  skill, 
Of  sundry  colored  flowers 

In  token  of  good-will, — 
The  blessed  crown  of  glory, 
And  the  hopes  which  us  do  fill." 

Many  and  very  beautiful  are  the  allusions 
made  to  this  custom  by  our  old  poets  and  drama- 
tists ;  we  shall  only  have  space  to  quote  a  few 
of  them  from  the  prince  of  song  and  master  of 
the  passions : — 

QUEEN. — "  Sweets  to  the  sweet    Farewell ! 

(  Scattering  flowers. ) 

I  hoped  thou  shouldst  have  been  my  Hamlet's  wife ; 
I  thought  thy  bride-bed  to  have  deck'd,  sweet  maid, 
And  not  t'  have  strew'd  thy  grave. — HAMLET,  ACT  V. 


FUNERAL     FLOWERS.  K>7 


f  n  this  burial  scene  of  poor  Ophena,  we  find 
the  priest  saying  : — 

" Hero  she  is  allowed  her  virgin  rites, 

Her  maiden  strewments." 

Some  editions  have  it  "her  virgin  cranls."  that 
is,  garlands.     Her  brother,  Laertes,  says  : — 

" Lay  her  i'  the  earth; 

And  from  her  fair  and  unpolluted  flesh 
May  violets  spring." 


158  FUNERAL     FLOWERS. 

LINES. 

BY   M.  A.  BROWSE. 

"Do  not  pluck  the  flowers,  they  are  sacred  to  tne  dead." 

An  inscription,  similar  to  the  foregoing,  it  seen  in  mar.y 
parts  of  the  Eoman  Catholic  Burial  Ground,  Botanic 
Gardens,  Cork. 

OH  !  spare  the  flowers,  the  fair  young  flowers, 

The  free  glad  gift  the  summer  brings  ; 
Bright  children  of  the  sun  and  showers, 

Here  do  they  rise,  earth's  offerings. 
Rich  be  the  dew  upon  you  shed 

Green  be  the  bough  that  o'er  you  waves, 
Weariless  watchers  by  the  dead, 

Unblenching  dweller  'midst  the  graves  ! 

Oh  !   spare  the  flowers  !  their  sweet  perfume, 
Upon  the  wandering  zephyr  cast, 

And  lingering  o'er  the  lowly  tomb, 
Is  like  the  memory  of  the  past 


FUNERAL     FLOWERS.  159 

They  flourish  freshly,  though  beneath 
Lie  the  dark  dust  and  creeping  worm, 

They  speak  of  Hope,  they  speak  of  Faith  ; 
They  smile,  like  rainbows  thro'  the  storm. 


Pluck  not  the  flowers — the  sacred  flowers  ! 

Go  where  the  garden's  treasures  spread, 
Where  strange  bright  blossoms  deck  the  bowers. 

And  spicy  trees  their  odors  shed. 
There  pluck,  if  thou  delight'st,  indeed, 

To  shorten  life  so  brief  as  theirs, 
But  here  the  admonition  heed — 

A  blessing  on  the  hand  that  spares ! 


Pluck  not  the  flowers  !     In  days  gone  by 

A  beautiful  belief  was  felt, 
That  fairy  spirits  of  the  sky 

Amidst  the  trembling  blossoms  dwelt. 
Perhaps  the  dead  have  many  a  guest, 

Holier  than  any  that  are  ours, 
Perhaps  their  guardian  angels  rest 

Enshrined  amidst  the  gentle  flowers. 


1  f>0  FUNERAL     FLOWERS. 

Hast  thou  no  loved  one  lying  low, 

No  broken  reed  of  earthly  trust  ? 
Hast  thou  not  felt  the  bitter  woe 

With  which  we  render  dust  to  dust? 
Thou  hast !  and  in  one  cherished  spot, 

Unseen,  unknown  to  earthly  eyes, 
Within  their  heart,  the  unforgot 

Entombed  in  silent  beauty  lies. 

Memory  and  Faith,  and  Love  so  deep. 

No  earthly  storm  can  reach  it  more — 
Affection  that  hath  ceased  to  weep, 

These  flourish  in  thy  bosom's  core. 
Spare  then  the  flowers  !     With  gentle  tread 

Draw  near,  remembering  what  thou  art, 
For  blossoms  sacred  to  the  dead, 

Are  ever  springing  in  thy  heart. 


FUNERAL     FLOWERS.  161 


MRS.    HE  MANS    AND    L.    E.    L. 

"  A  touching  and  graceful  compliment  was  once  paid  to 
L.  E.  L.  It  was  a  tribute  from  America,  sent  from  the 
far-offbanks  of  the  Ohio — a  curious  species  of  the  Michigan 
rose,  accompanied  by  a  prayer  that  she  would  plant  it  on 
the  grave  of  Mrs.  Hemans.  To  no  hand  could  it  hare 
been  more  appropriately  transmitted,  than  to  the  hand 
which  wrote  so  reverently  and  rapturously  of  that  gifted 
woman." — LIFE  AND  LITERARY  REMAINS  OP  L.  E.  L. 

The  author  of  the  above  work,  LAMAX  BLANCH ARD,  in 
the  introduction,  mentions  a  very  beautiful  expression  of 
L.  E.  L.,  when  writing  of  a  great  author,  lately  dead : — 
"  I  almost  fear  to  praise  such  a  man ;  but  comfort  myself 
with  thinking  that  though  few  can  raise  the  carved  marble 
over  a  great  author's  remains,  all  may  throw  a  floicer  on 
his  grave."  How  touchingly  beautiful  are  L.  E.  L.'s 
Stanzas  on  the  Death  of  Mrs.  Hemans;  well  may  she 
repeat  from  this  lamented  authoress'  "  Lays  of  Many 
Lands,"  — "  The  rose,  the  glorious  rose,  is  gone,"  and 
continue : — 

tl  Bring  flowers  to  crown  the  cup  and  lute — 

Bring  flowers — the  bride  is  near  ; 
Bring  flowers  to  soothe  the  captive's  cell, 

Bring  flowers  to  strew  the  bier  ! 
14* 


162  FUNERAL     FLOWERS. 


Bring  flowers  !  thus  said  the  lovely  song  ; 

And  shall  they  not  be  brought 
To  her  who  linked  the  offering 

With  feeling  and  with  thought  ? 

"  Bring  flowers — the  perfumed  and  the  pure — 

Those  with  the  morning  dew, 
A  sigh  on  every  fragrant  leaf, 

A  tear  on  every  hue. 
So  pure,  so  sweet,  thy  life  has  been, 

So  rilling  earth  and  air 
With  odors,  and  with  loveliness, 

Till  common  scenes  grow  fair." 

THE    WEDDING    WAKE. 

BY   GEORGE    BARLEY. 

WE'LL  carry  her  o'er  the  churchyard  green, 

Down  by  the  willow  trees ; 
We'll  bury  her  by  herself  between 

Two  sister  cypresses. 

Flowers  of  the  sweetest,  saddest  hue, 

Shall  deck  her  lowly  bed, 
Rosemary  at  her  feet  we'll  strew, 

And  violets  at  her  head. 


FUNERAL     FLOWERS.  163 

The  pale  rose,  the  dim  azure-bell, 

And  that  lamenting  flower, 
With  ai !  ai !  its  eternal  knell, 

Shall  over-bloom  her  bower — 

Her  cypress  bower  ;  whose  shade  beneath 

Passionless  she  shall  lie  ; 
To  rest  so  calm,  so  sweet  in  death, 

'Twere  no  great  ill  to  die  ! 

Ye  four  fair  maids,  the  fairest  ye, 

Be  ye  the  flower-strewers  ! 
Ye  four  bright  youths  the  bearers  be, 

Ye  were  her  fondest  wooers  ! 

To  church  !  to  church  !  ungallant  youth, 

Carry  your  willing  bride  ! 
So  pale  he  looks  !  'twere  well,  in  sooth, 

He  should  lie  by  her  side  ! 

The  bed  is  laid,  the  toll  is  done, 

The  ready  priest  doth  stand  ; 
Come,  let  the  flowers  be  strown,  be  strewn, 

Strike  up  ye  bridal  band  ! 


THE  DYING  BOY  TO  THE  SLOE  BLOSSOM. 

BT   E.    ELLIOTT. 

BEFORE  thy  leaves  tliou  com'st  once  more, 

White  blossom  of  the  sloe  ! 
Thy  leaves  will  come  as  heretofore ; 
But  this  poor  heart,  its  troubles  o'er, 
Will  then  lie  low. 

A  month  at  least  before  thy  time 

Thou  com'st,  pale  flowej,  to  me  ; 
For  well  thou  know'st  the  frosty  rime 
Will  blast  me  ere  my  vernal  prime, 
No  more  to  be. 

Why  here  in  winter  ?     No  storm  lours 

O'er  nature's  silent  shroud  ! 
But  blithe  larks  meet  the  sunny  showers, 
High  o'er  the  doom'd  untimely  flowers 
In  beauty  bow'd. 
164 


THE     DYING     BOY. 

Sweet  violets  in  the  budding  grove 

Peep  where  the  glad  waves  run  ; 
The  wren  below,  the  thrush  above, 
Of  bright  to-morrow's  joy  and  love 
Sing  to  the  sun. 

And  where  the  rose-leaf,  ever  bold, 
Hears  bees  chant  hymns  to  God, 
The  breeze-bowed  palm,  moss'd  o'er  with  gold, 
Smiles  o'er  the  well  in  summer  cold, 
And  daisied  sod. 

But  thou,  pale  blossom,  thou  art  come, 

And  flowers  in  winter  blow, 
To  tell  me  that  the  worm  makes  room 
For  me,  her  brother,  in  the  tomb, 
And  thinks  me  slow. 

For  as  the  rainbow  of  the  dawn 

Foretells  an  eve  of  tears, 
A  sunbeam  on  the  sadden'd  lawn 
I  smile,  and  weep  to  be  withdrawn 
In  early  years. 


16G  THE    DYING    BOY. 

Thy  leaves  will  come  !  but  songful  spring 

Will  see  no  leaf  of  mine  : 
Her  bells  will  ring,  her  bridemaids  sing, 
When  my  young  leaves  are  withering 
Where  no  suns  shine. 

Oh,  might  I  breathe  morn's  dewy  breath 
When  June's  s\veet  Sabbaths  chime  ! 
But,  thine  before  my  time,  oh,  death  ! 
I  go  where  no  flow'r  blossometh, 
Before  my  time. 

Even  as  the  blushes  of  the  morn 

Vanish,  and  long'ere  noon 
The  dew-drop  dieth  on  the  thorn, 
So  fair  I  bloom'd  ;  and  was  I  born 
To  die  as  soon  ? 

To  love  my  mother,  and  to  die — 

To  perish  in  my  bloom ! 
Is  this  my  sad,  brief  history  ! — 
A  tear  dropp'd  from  a  mother's  eye 
Into  the  tomb. 


THE    DYING    EOT.  167 

He  lived  and  loved — will  sorrow  say — 

By  early  sorrows  tried  ; 
He  smiled,  he  sigh'd,  he  pass'd  away ; 
His  life  was  but  an  April  day, — 
He  loved,  and  died  ! 

My  mother  smiles,  then  turns  away, 

But  turns  away  to  weep  ; 
They  whisper  round  me — what  they  say 
I  need  not  hear,  for  in  the  clay 
I  soon  must  sleep. 

O,  love  is  sorrow  !  sad  it  is 

To  be  both  tried  and  true ; 
I  ever  trembled  in  my  bliss : 
Now  there  are  farewells  in  a  kiss,— 
They  sigh  adieu. 

But  woodbines  flaunt  when  blue  bells  fade, 

Where  Don  reflects  the  skies  ; 
And  many  a  youth  in  ShireclifFs'  shade 
Will  ramble  where  my  boyhood  play'd : 
Though  Alfred  dies. 


WILD    FLOWERS. 


"  WILD  FLOWERS  seem  to  me  the  true  philanthropists  of 
their  race.  Their  generous  and  cheerful  faces  ever  give  a 
kindly  greeting  to  the  troops  of  merry  village  children  who 
revel  in  their  blossoming  wealth  ;  and  right  welcome  are 
they  gladdening  the  eyes  of  the  poor  mechanic,  when  he 
breathes  the  fresh  country  air  on  Sunday,  and  gathers  a 
handful  of  cowslips  or  daffodils,  or  the  prouder  foxglove, 
to  carry  home,  and  set  in  the  dim  window  of  his  pent-up 
dwelling.  So  dear  and  beautiful  are  WILD  FLOWEKS,  that 
one  would  think  every  one  mutt  love  them." 

Miss  TWAMLEY. 

Aye,  must  love  them  indeed,  Lady  !  well 
might  BURNS  pause  with  his  plough,  to  lament 
over  the  daisy  which  he  had  destroyed  ;  well 
might  WORDSWORTH  pen,  I  know  not  how 
many  stanzas,  to  the  same  simple  flower,  and 
to  the  golden  celandine  ;  and  well  might 
another  child  of  song  exclaim  : — 

"  Oh  !  I'll  never  envy  riches,  though  toilin'  at  the  plough, 
There's  flowers  alang  the  peasant's  path,  e'en  kingt  miyht 
stoop  to  pit'." — G.  W. 

15  169 


J 


170  WILD      BLOWERS. 

The  primrose  and  the  violet,  the  cowslip  and 
the  daffodil,  and  all  the  sweet  dwellers  in  the 
green  lanes,  and  the  shady  woods,  and  the 
sunny  meadows,  have  ever  been  the  especial 
favorites,  not  only  of  those,  who  heing  denied 
access  to  the  conservatory  and  the  parterre,  are 
not  brought  into  contact  with  the  more  richly 
tinted  and  gorgeous  productions  of  foreign 
climes,  but  also  of  the  whole  race  of  poets, 
many  of  whom  are  surrounded  with  these 
splendid  exotics,  in  their  dwellings,  and  every 
day  walks  ;  and  most,  or  all  of  whom,  enjoy 
frequent  opportunities  of  observing  and  ad- 
miring them ;  and  yet  for  poems  in  praise  of 
the  geranium  and  the  cactus,  we  might  search 
in  vain  ;  while  for  those  which  celebrate  the 
"  wildings'  of  nature,"  have  we  not  enough  to 
fill  volumes  ?  Aye  !  volumes  fraught  with 
beauty  and  fragrance,  of  which  this  is  but  a 
foretaste  and  a  specimen. 

Not  only  with  vine  leaves  and  ears  of  corn 

Is  nature  dress'd,  but  'neath  the  feet  of  man, 

As  at  a  sovereign's  feet,  she  scatters  flowers, 

And  sweet  and  useless  plants,  which,  born  to  please, 

Disdain  to  serve." — MADAME  DE  STAEL. 


WILD     FLOWERS.  171 

We  have  italicised  two  words  in  this  quota- 
tion, because  we  do  not  like  them.  It  is  our  creed 
and  belief  that  nothing  which  God  has  created 
is  useless  ;  we  may  not  perceive  its  applicability 
to  any  known  purpose,  but  we  are  not  therefore 
to  conclude  that  it  is  of  no  service — that  it  per- 
forms no  important  function  in  the  great  scheme 
of  universal  being  our  greatest  living  poet 
says :  — 

"Small  service  is  true  service  while'it  lasts, 

Of  friends,  however  humble,  scorn  not  one ; 
The  daisy,  by  the  shadow  that  it  ea.-'ts, 

Protects  the  lingering  dew-drop  from  the  sun." 

We  are  but  too  apt  to  look  upon  part  of  the 
vegetation  with  which  the  earth  is  covered — 
"  clothed  as  with  a  garment  of  beauty" — as 
worthless  and  contemptible,  especially  when 
there  are  no  blossoms,  which  with  their  tint  or 
perfume,  afford  gratification  to  the  senses  ;  and 
to  pass  by  "  common  weeds"  as  vile  things,  not 
simply  useless,  but  mischievous  : — 

"  Scorn  not  those  rude,  unlovely  things, 

All  cultureless  that  grow, 
And  rank  o'er  woods,  and  wilds,  and  springs, 
Their  vain  luxuriance  throw. 


172  WILD     FLOWEES. 

A^VS^^VS^^V^ ^N^W/^xv~N^~^^>*-.^>^ 

"  Eternal  love  and  wisdom  drew 
The  plan  of  earth  and  skies  ; 
And  He  the  span  of  heaven  that  threw, 
Commands  the  weeds  to  rise. 

"  Then  think  not  nature's  scheme  sublime 
These  common  things  might  spare  ;- 
for  science  may  detect  in  time 
A  thousand  virtues  there." — J.  F.  SMITH. 

Daily  more  and  more  are  the  mysteries  of 
nature  unfolded  to  us  ;  daily  more  and  more  are 
her  "  Hidden  Uses"  made  manifest. 

It  is  in  no  irreverent  spirit  that  we  venture 
to  quote  the  command  which  came  to  the  apostle 
Peter  from  heaven,  with  a  slight  alteration,  to 
suit  our  purpose.  "  What  God  has  created, 
that  call  thou  not  useless,"  for  nothing  is  there 
which  may  not  be  made  applicable  to  satisfy 
our  bodily  or  mental  wants  ;  if  it  contribute  not, 
directly  or  indirectly,  to  our  sustenance,  or 
comfort,  or  relief  in  sickness,  yet  will  it  yield 
moral  instruction,  or  intellectual  pleasure,  and 
therefore  is  it  truly  serviceable  to  us. 

"To  whisper  hope — to  comfort  man — 

"Whene'er  his  faith  is  dim, 
For  whoso  careth  for  the  flowers 
Will  care  much  more  for  him." 


WILD     FLO  WEE  8.  173 

And  this  is  the  moral  which  may  be  drawn 
from  the  meanest  weed,  or  blade,  or  leaf,  on 
which  we  gaze.  We  have  not  the  original  to 
refer  to,  but  cannot  help  thinking  that  useless 
was  not  exactly  the  word  to  express  MADAME 
DE  STAEL'S  meaning,  as  she  says  directly  after, 
11  which,  born  to  please,"  and  this  negatives 
the  idea  of  their  being  useless,  as  it  implies  an 
and  and  a  purpose,  which  they  are  to  answer, 
though  not,  perhaps,  the  highest. 

And  now  for  the  second  count  in  the  indict- 
ment— the  other  objectionable  word — which  is 
also  open  to  the  suspicion  of  being  a  mistrans- 
lation ;  that  flowers  disdain  to  serve,  we  strongly 
deny.  Of  all  the  creatures  and  objects  which 
minister  to  man's  wants,  or  pleasures,  they  are 
the  gentlest,  the  most  unresisting ;  he  may 
crush  them,  trample  on  them,  do  with  them  as 
he  will,  yet  there  they  are,  ever  smiling  up  in 
his  face,  yielding  him  their  fragrance,  their 
nutriment,  their  alleviation  for  bodily  pain,  and 
mental  disquietude  : — 

"  Oh  !  tell  me  not  the  gentle  flowers 

Disdain  to  serve  mankind, — 

15* 


174  \VILD      FLOWERS. 

To  renovate  the  sinking  powers, 

To  soothe  the  troubled  mind, 
When  gloomily  the  welkin  lowers, 

And  fortune  is  unkind; 
"  They  comfort  man  in  his  distress, 

They  smile  when  he  is  gay ; 
Their  fragrance  and  their  loveliness, 

They  yield  him  day  by  day  ; 
For  patience  and  for  humbleness. 

No  servitors  like  they." — H.  G.  A. 

They  are  pulled  and  scattered  to  the  four 
winds,  by  the  hand  of  careless  childhood,  yet 
ever  do  they  spring  up  again  for  his  delight  and 
gladness  ;  they  are  gathered  alike  by  the  soft 
white  hand  of  beauty,  and  the  toil-hardened  one 
of  industry,  unrepining  they  breathe  out  their 
fragrant  lives  on  the  bosom  of  the  former,  and 
borne  by  the  latter  into  the  crowded  city,  they 
strive  to  beautify  and  perfume  his  hot  and 
murky  dwelling-place.  Here  is  a  picture  of 
them  thus  striving  : — 

'  A  broken  flower-pot,  with  a  string  secured, 
Contained  a  living  treasure — a  green  clump — 
(Just  bursting  into  bloom)  of  the  field  orchis. 

'You  care  for  flowers,'  I  said,  '  and  that  fair  thing, 
The  beautiful  orchis,  seems  to  flourish  well 
With  little  light  and  air.' 


•WILD     FLOWERS.  175 

'  It  won't  for  long,' 

The  man  made  answer,  with  a  mournful  smile, 
Eyeing  the  plant — '  I  took  it  up,  poor  thing  ! 
But  Sunday  evening  last,  from  the  rich  meadow, 
Where  thousands  bloom  so  gay,  and  brought  it  here, 
To  smell  of  the  green  fields  for  a  few  days, 
Till  Sunday  comes  again — and  rest  mine  eyes  on, 
AVhen  I  look  up,  fatigued,  from  these  dead  gems 
And  yellow  glittering  gold.'  "—Miss  BOWLES. 

The  man  was  a  working  jeweller,  and  could 
estimate  rightly  the  great  value  of  the  precious 
ore,  and  glittering  gems,  entrusted  to  him  ;  and 
yet  more  highly  did  he  prize  the  simple  Wild 
Flower,  which  reminded  him  of  his  rarely 
enjoyed  country  walks,  and  brought  something 
of  the  freshness  and  beauty  of  nature  into  his 
home  and  his  heart ;  pleasant  associations  were 
mingled  with  the  sight  of  that  flower,  and  it 
cheered  and  refreshed  him  at  his  labor,  to  look 
upon  it,  and  19  think  • — 

"  Thus,  when  within  my  sunless  room, 

Heartsick,  and  mocked  by  mammon's  leaven, 
Thy  pyramids  of  purple  bloom, 
Blush  through  the  loneliness  and  gloom, 
My  spirit  bursts  its  living  tomb, 

And  basks  beneath  the  open  heaven." 


176  WILD     FLOWERS. 

We  have  thus  endeavored  to  defend  our 
beloved  friends,  the  flowers,  from  the  charge  of 
disdaining  to  serve,  by  showing  the  true  service 
which  they  render  to  man  ;  and  now,  let  us 
give  a  companion  picture  to  the  one  above  ; — 
it  is  from  "  Nina  Sforza  :" — 

"  I  late  was  passing  by  a  poet's  door, 
Who,  on  his  windoiv-sill,  with  wasted  care, 
Had  placed  a  hungry  shrub  for  light — a  want 
That  crowded  quarter  miserly  supplied ; 
A  wild  field-rose  it  was  ;  it  may  be  slippe 
As  sweet  remembrance  of  his  wanderings ; 
'Twas  withering  fast,  yet,  'midst  its  dry,  curl'd  leaves, 
One  sickly  bud  had  struggled  into  bloom. 
That  bud,  so  pale,  so  common,  fix'd  my  step ; 
I  thought  it  priceless,  and,  except  for  shame, 
Had  very  gladly  stolen  away  a  leaf; 
I,  whose  court-life  had  ever  been  perfumed 
With  every  rarest  flower  that  we  know. 
Now,  think  you,  'twas  the  rose-bud  that  I  saw  ? 
Believe  it  not !  It  was  the  poet's  soul 
Diffused  by  mental  magic,  over  all 
Which  environed  the  proud  connection  of  his  nam 
R.  Z.  S.  TROUGHTOX. 

"  Better,"  says  ourmost  delightful  of  essayists, 
LEIGH  HUNT,  "  better  hang  a  wild  rose  over  the 
toilet,  than  nothing.  The  eye  that  looks  in  the 


W  1  L  D      F  L  O  W  E  R  S.  177 

glass  will  see  there  something  besides  itself,  and 
acquire  something  of  a  religious  right  to  respect 
itself,  in  thinking  by  how  many  objects  in  the 
creation  the  bloom  of  beauty  is  shared."  And 
a^ain,  speaking  of  "  Breakfast  in  Summer," 
he  says  : — "  Set  flowers  on  your  table,  a  whole 
nosegay  if  you  can  get  it, — or  but  two  or  three, — 
or  a  single  flower, — a  rose,  a  pink,  nay,  a  daisy. 
Bring  a  few  daisies  and  buttercups,  from  your 
last  field  walk,  and  keep  them  alive  in  a  little 
water;  and  preserve  but  a  bunch  of  clover,  or 
a  handful  of  flowering  grass,  one  of  the  most 
elegant,  as  well  as  cheap,  of  nature's  productions, 
— and  you  have  something  on  your  table  that 
reminds  you  of  the  beauty  of  God's  creation, 
and  gives  you  a  link  with  the  poets  and  sages 
that  have  done  it  most  honour.  Put  but  a  rose, 
era  lily,  or  a  violet,  on  your  table,  and  you  and 
Lord  Bacon  have  a  custom  in  common  ;  for 
that  great  and  wise  man  was  in  the  habit  of 
having  the  flowers  in  season  set  upon  his 
table, — morning,  and,  we  believe,  noon,  and 
night ;  that  is  to  say,  at  all  his  meals  ;  for  din- 
ner, in  his  time,  was  taken  at  noon  :  and  why 


178  WILD     FLOWERS. 

should  he  not  have  flowers  at  all  his  meals, 
seeing  that  they  were  growing  all  day  ?  Now 
here  is  a  fashion  that  shall  last  you  for  ever,  if 
you  please  ;  never  changing  with  silks,  and 
velvets,  nor  dependent  upon  the  caprice  of  some 
fine  gentleman  or  lady.  The  fashion  of  the 
garments  of  heaven  and  earth  endures  for- 
ever, and  you  may  adorn  your  table  with  spe- 
cimens of  their  drapery, — with  flowers  out  of  the 
fields,  and  golden  beams  out  of  the  blue  ether." 
Shall  we  not  away,  then,  reader,  to  gather 
the  wild  beauties,  of  nature,  which  are  so 
lavishly  scattered  abroad  for  us,  and  adorn  our 
homes  with  that  drapery  of  the  earth  and  the 
heavens  ? 

For  as  Miss  PARDOE  exclaims  : — "  Is  not  the 
holiness  of  nature  a  loftier  contemplation  than 
the  gilded  saloons  of  the  g-reat  ?  The  power 
to  feel  and  to  appropriate  the  noble  gifts  of  the 
Creator,  eminently  more  glorious,  than  the 
talent  to  discover  the  finite  perfections  of  the 
creature  ?  Is  not  the  breeze  which  sweeps 
over  the  heathy  hill,  or  through  the  blossom- 


WILD      FLOWERS.  179 

scented  valley,  more  redolent  of  real  sweetness 
than  the  perfume-laden  halls  of  luxury  ?" 

"  I  know  a  brook  that  all  the  livelong  day 
Babbles  the  silence  of  a  vale  awa y, 
With  gurgle,  gurgle,  for  its  ceaseless  song; 
Many  a  hermit  flower  is  found  along 
Its  mossy  banks — some  deep  secluded,  where 
None  knew  their  being,  save  the  prying  air, 
That  is  their  faithless  confident,  and  tells 
The  fragrant  sighs  he  heard  within  their  cells. 
Some,  less  retired,  bent  vainly  o'er  the  brook, 
For  their  sweet  image  in  its  mirror  look ; 
A  broken  reflex  in  the  water 
Is  all  they  find — they  gaze — they  hope — alas  ! 
They  die  despairing,  amorous  of  themselves ! — 
Why  still  ye  not  the  waters,  sylphs  and  elves  ! 
And  let  me,  in  my  lonely  musing  walk, 
Hoar  a  wild  blossom  to  its  beauty  talk  ? 

"  What  would  it  say  ? — delight  and  purity 
And  music,  surely  would  its  language  be 
To  its  sweet  rival-sdf  within  the  stream — 
Alas  !  this  minds  me  of  a  long-fled  dream  ! 

J.  A.  WADE. 

A  dream,  doubtless,  of  vanished  beauty — of  a 
light  that  is  quenched — of  fragrance  wasted 
upon  the  air  !  but  let  us  on  in  our  s\veet  quest, 
listing,  as  \ve  go,  to  the  words  of  the  lately 


180  WILD     FLOWERS. 


departed  poet,  CAMPBELL  :  — "  I  delight  in  the 
Flowers  of  the  Field  ;  they  have  all  some  charm 
or  other  in  my  eyes, — with  their  shapes  and 
nues  they  speak  a  language  of  their  own,  to 
my  imagination  ;  and  when  I  have  admired 
their  beauty,  I  like  to  consult  the  dictionary 
about  their  uses  and  qualities."  Better  still 
were  it  to  have  some  friend  acquainted  with  th^ 
hidden  properties  of  nature's  various  produc- 
tions, to  whom,  like  Thyrsis  lamenting  for  his 
Damon,  one  might  say  : — 

" Thou  shalt  cull  me  simples,  and  shall  teach 

Thy  friend  the  name  and  healing  powers  of  each, 
From  the  tall  blue-bell  to  the  dwarfish  weed, 
What  the  dry  land,  and  what  the  marshes  feed; 
For  all  their  kinds  alike  to  thee  are  known, 
And  the  whole  art  of  Galen  is  thine  own." 

The  friends  of  the  poet,  above  alluded  to, 
might  well  exclaim,  with  the  concluding  words 
of  the  quotation  : — 

"  Ah  !  perish  Galen's  art,  and  withered  be 
The  useless  herbs  that  gave  not  health  to  thee." 

COWPEB,  FROM  MlLTOK. 


WILD     FLO  WEB  8.  181 


Wronging,  in  the  bitterness  of  their  grief,  the 
plants  which  were  powerless  to  save  him  : 

"Who  bade  the  many-coloured  bow 
With  brighter,  richer  hues  to  glow, 

And  from  the  lowly  Field  Flowers  rose, 
To  meet  the  last  of  all  our  race, 
Stern  moralizing,  face  to  face, 

With  Time  and  Life,  in  their  last  throes." 

II.  G.  A. 

Let  us  now  put  ourselves  under  the  guidance 
of  WILLIAM  HOWITT — one  who  knows  well 
where  the  sweetest  Wild  Flowers  are  to  be 
found,  and  who  has,  moreover,  a  true  eye  for 
the  beautiful  and  picturesque  in  nature,  and  a 
true  heart  to  sympathize,  alike  in  grief  or  joy, 
with  his  fellow-men.  See  what  an  English 
landscape  opens  before  us  as  we  follow  the 
path  which  he  indicates  :  "It  is  evening,  what 
a  calm  and  basking  sunshine  lies  on  the  green 
landscape.  -Look  around, — all  is  beauty,  and 
richness,  and  glory.  Those  tall  elms,  which 
surround  the  church-yard,  letting  the  grey 
tower  get  but  a  passing  glimpse  of  the  river, 
and  that  'other  magnificent  circle  of  solemn 
trees,  which  stretch  up  the  side  of  the  same 
16 


182  WILD      FLOWERS. 

fair  stream, — ho\v  they  hang  in  the  most  ver- 
dant and  luxuriant  masses  of  foliage  !  What  a 
soft,  hazy,  twilight  floats  about  them  !  What  a 
slumberous  calm  rests  upon  them  !  Slumberous 
did  I  say  ?  no,  it  is  not  slumberous  ;  it  has  nothing 
of  sleep  in  its  profound  repose.  It  is  the  depth 
of  a  contemplative  trance  ;  as  if  every  tree  were 
a  living,  thinking  spirit,  lost  in  the  vastness  of 
some  absorbing  thought.  It  is  the  hush  of  a 
dream-land  ;  the  motionless  majesty  of  an  en- 
chanted forest,  bearing  the  spell  of  an  irrefrag- 
able silence."  Pause  here  a  moment,  while 
we  repeat  a  few  lines,  which  this  idea  has 
brought  to  our  memory  ;  we  have  but  to  change 
the  time  from  evening  to  night,  and  it  will  be 
exactly  applicable : — 

"  Old  trees  by  night  are  like  men  in  thought, 
By  poetry  to  silence  wrought ; 
They  stand  so  still,  and  they  look  so  wise, 
With  folded  arms,  and  half  shut  eyes, 
More  shadowy  than  the  shade  they  cast 
When  the  wan  moonlight  on  the  river  passed." 

F.  W.  FABER. 

And  now  to  continue  our  examinanon  of  the 
beauties  of  the  prospect  before  us  : — "  See  over 


WILD     FLOWERS.  183 

those  wide  meadows,  what  an  affluence  of  vege- 
tation ! — How  that  herd  of  cattle,  in  color,  and 
form,  and  grouping,  worthy  the  pencil  of  Cuyp 
or  Ruysdael,  graces  the  plenty  of  that  field  of 
most  lustrous  gold  ;  and  all  around,  the  grass 
growing  for  the  scythe,  almost  overtops  the 
hedges  with  its  abundance.  As  we  track  the 
narrow  footpath,  we  cannot  avoid  a  lively  ad- 
miration of  the  rich  mosaic  of  colors  that  are 
woven  all  through  them — the  yellow  rattle — 
the  crimson  stems  and  heads  of  the  burnet,  that 
plant  of  beautiful  leaves — the  golden  trifolium 
— the  light  quakegrass — the  azure  milkwort — 
and  clover  scenting  all  the  air.  And  lo !  there 
are  the  mowers  sit  work  !  there  are  the  hay- 
makers !  Green  swathes  of  mown  grass — hay- 
cocks and  wagons  ready  to  bear  them  away — 
it  is  summer,  indeed  !"  We  must  have  another 
verse  of  poetry — another  quaff  from  the  Pierian 
springs — what  shall  it  be  ?  Oh  !  let  us  quote 
from  a  poet  whom  we  have  hitherto  too  much 
neglected  : — 

*  Hark  !  -where  the  sweeping  scythe  now  rips  along; 
Each  sturdy  mower  emulous  and  strong, 


WILD      FLOWERS. 

Whose  writhing  form  meridian  heat  defies, 
Bends  o'er  his  work,  and  every  sinew  tries  ; 
Prostrates  the  waving  treasure  at  his  feet, 
But  spares  the  rising  clover,  short  and  sweet. 
Come  Health  !  come  Jollity  !  light-footed,  come ; 
Here  hold  your  revels,  and  make  this  your  home." 

BLOOMFIELD. 

Now  again  for  HOWITT'S  rich  prose  : — 
"What  a  fragrance  comes  floating  on  the 
gale  from  the  clover  in  the  standing  grass  ;  from 
the  new-mown  hay ;  and  from  these  sycamore 
trees,  with  all  their  pendant  flowers.  It  is  deli- 
cious ;  and  yet  one  cannot  help  regretting  that 
the  year  has  advanced  so  far.  Here,  the  wild 
rose  is  putting  out  ;  the  elder  is  already  in 
flower  ;  they  are  all  beautiful,  but  saddening 
signs  of  the  swift-winged  time.  Let  us  sit  down 
by  this  little  stream,  and  enjoy  the  pleasantness 
that  it  presents,  without  a  thought  of  the  future. 
Ah!  this  sweet  place 'is  just  in  its  pride.  The 
flags  have  sprung  thickly  in  the  bed  of  the 
brook,  and  their  yellow  flowers  are  beginning 
to  show  themselves.  The  green  locks  of  the 
water  ranunculuses  are  lifted  by  the  stream,  and 
their  flowers  form  snowy  islands  on  the  surface  ; 


WILD      FLOWERS.  185 

the  water-lilies  spread  out  their  leaves  upon  it 
like  the  pallettes  of  fairy  painters ;  and  that 
opposite  bank,  what  a  prodigal  scene  of  vigorous 
and  abundant  vegetation  it  is.  There  are  the 
blue  geraniums  as  lovely  as  ever  ;  the  meadow- 
sweet is  hastening  to  put  out  its  form-like 
flowers  ;  that  species  of  golden-flowered  mustard 
occupies  the  connecting  space  between  the  land 
and  water ;  and  harebells,  the  jagged  pink 
lichnis,  and  flowering  grass  of  various  kinds, 
make  the  whole  bank  beautiful."*  Beautiful, 
indeed  !  Well  might  the  lady  of  this  painter  of 
Nature  sing  : — 

"Hove  the  odorous  hawthorn  flower, 

I  love  the  wilding's  bloom  to  see 
I  love  the  light  anemonies 
That  tremble  to  the  faintest  breeze, 
And  hyacinth-like  orchises 

Are  very  dear  to  me. 
,"  The  star-wort  is  a  fairy  flower, 

The  violet  is  a  thing  to  prize, 
The  wild  pink  on  the  craggy  ledge, 
The  waving,  sword-lik  e  water's-edge, 
And  e'en  the  Robin-run-i'-the-hedge, 

Are  precious  in  mine  eyes." 

*  Rural  Life  in  England. 
16* 


186  WltD      FLOWERS. 

And  why  are  they  precious? 

"Less  that  they  are  so  beautiful, 
Than  that  they  are  so  jtlentiful, 
So  free  for  every  child  to  pull." 

MARY  HOWITT. 

Herein  the  lady  agrees  with  many  others  who 
have  written  on  this  delightful  subject ;  as  the 
quotation  at  the  head  of  our  chapter  well  ex- 
presses it,  Wild  Flowers  are  "  the  true  Phi- 
lanthropists of  Nature  ;"  says  another  sweet 
singer  : — 

"And  then  I  love  the  Field  Flowers,  too, 

Because  they  are  a  blessing  given 
E'en  to  the  poorest  little  one, 

Who  wanders  'neath  the  vault  of  heaven  ; 
The  garden  flowers  are  reared  by  few, 

And  to  that  few  belong  alone  ; 
But  flowers  that  spring  by  vale  or  stream, 
Each  one  may  claim  them  for  hid  own." 

AXXE  PRATT. 

Besides  their  superior  fragrance,  to  which  we 
shall  presently  make  allusion,  there  is  also 
another  reason  named  by  this  author,  for  her 
love  of  Wild  Flowers  ;  we  will  give  it,  not  in  her 


WILD      FLOWERS.  187 

own  words,  but  in  those  of  a  sister  of  song.     It 
is  that  they  are  fraught  with, — 

"  Sweet  memories  of  that  blissful  time, 
Life's  day-spring!  lovelier  than  its  prime, 
When  with  the  bird  on  summer  morn, 
That  carolled  earliest  from  the  thorn, 
I  was  awake,  and  singing  too, 
And  gathering  wild  flowers  wet  with  dew." 

CAROLINE  BOWLES. 

A  writer  in  the  Quarterly  Heview  observes 
thus  :  "  One  characteristic  of  our  native  plants 
we  must  mention,  that  if  we  miss  in  them  some- 
thing of  the  gorgeousness  and  lustre  of  more 
tropical  flowers,  we  are  more  than  compensated 
by  the  delicacy  and  variety  of  their  perfume  ; 
and  just  as  our  woods,  vocal  with  the  nightin- 
gale, the  blackbird,  and  the  thrush,  can  well 
spare  the  gaudy  feathers  of  the  macaw,  so  we 
can  consign  the  oncidiums,  and  cactuses,  and 
the  impomaeas  of  the  tropics,  for  the  delicious 
fragrance  of  our  wild  banks  of  violets,  our  lilies- 
of-the-valley,  our  woodbine,  or  even  the  passing 
whiff  of  a  hawthorn  bush,  a  clover  or  bean  field, 
or  a  gorse  common."  Yes  we  can  well  spare 


188  WILD      FLOWERS. 


lhosc  gaudy  strangers,  for  the  sweet  and  beau- 
liful  productions  of  our  own  woods  and  fields 
possess,  in  themselves,  all  that  the  heart  or  the 
imagination  can  require  in  a  flower ;  wandering 
amid  them  we  may  say,  with  MILTON  :— 

"  Xow  gentle  gales 

Fanning  their  odoriferous  wings,  dispense 
Native  perfumes,  and  whisper  whence  they  stole 
These  balmy  spoils." 

HELIOTROPE. 
THERE  is  a  flower  whose  modest  eye 

Is  turned  with  looks  of  light  and  love, 
Who  breathes  her  softest,  sweetest  sigh 

Whene'er  the  sun  is  bright  above. 

Let  clouds  obscure,  or  darkness  veil, 

Her  fond  idolatry  is  fled  ; 
Her  sighs  no  more  their  sweets  exhale, 

The  loving  eye  is  cold  and  dead. 

Canst  thou  not  trace  a  moral  here, 

False  flatterer  of  the  prosperous  hour  ? 

Let  but  an  adverse  cloud  appear, 
And  thou  art  faithless  as  the  flower. 


WILD    FLOWERS. 

BT   ANNE    PRATT. 

Why  is  it  that  I  love  the  flowers 

That  grow  in  woods,  and  lanes,  and  fields, 
Better  than  all  the  glowing  ones 

The  richly  cultured  garden  yields  ? 
Why  is  it  that  the  daisy  has 

A  charm  for  me,  all  flowers  above  ; 
Or  why  the  hawthorn's  fragrant  breath, 

More  than  the  myrtle's  do  I  love  ? 

The  cuckoo-flower  and  hyacinth, 

These  blossoms  of  each  woodland  wild, — 
The  primrose  and  anemone, 

O,  I  have  prized  them  from  a  child  ! 
And  still  the  odours  lhat  arise 

From  clusters  of  the  wild  woodbine, 
Are  sweeter,  lovelier  to  me, 

Than  scent  of  Eastern  jessamine. 

189 


190  WILD     BLOWERS. 

And  yet  the  flowers  I  prize  so  much, 

Than  cultured  flowers  are  not  more  sweet, 
And  they  are  withered  sooner  far, 

Than  those  we  in  the  garden  meet 
Their  colours  are  not  half  so  gay 

As  tints  of  flowers  from  far-off  land, 
From  isle  of  Greece,  or  Indian  grove, 

Nurtured  by  man  with  careful  hand. 


But  meadow  flowers  bring  to  my  mind 

The  thoughts  of  pleasant  days  gone  by, 
When  with  my  sisters,  hand  in  hand, 

We  roamed  beneath  the  summer  sky  ; 
And  twined  a  garland  for  our  hats, 

Of  blossoms  from  each  bush  around, 
And  linked  the  daisies  into  chains, 

And  culled  the  cowslips  from  the  ground. 


And  then  I  love  the  field  flowers,  too, 
Because  they  are  a  blessing  given 

Ev'n  to  the  poorest  little  one, 

That  wanders  'neath  the  vault  of  heaven  ; 


WILD     FLOWERS.  191 


The  garden  flowers  are  reared  for  few, 
And  to  those  few  belong  alone  ; 

But  flowers  that  spring  by  vale  or  stream, 
Each  one  may  claim  them  for  his  own. 


The  rich  parterre  is  walled  around, 

But  meadow  lands  stretch  far  and  wide 
And  we  may  gather  lovely  flowers 

For  miles  along  the  river  side  ; 
And  far  amidst  the  landscape  wild, 

Wander  the  scenes  of  beauty  o'er, 
Now  lingering  in  the  violet  glen, 

Now  roaming  on  the  thymy  moor. 

Or  pause  wfcere  foam-like  meadow  queen 

Scatters  her  blossoms  on  the  lake, 
Or  where  the  Orchis  blooms  among 

The  lady-fern  or  feathery  brake  ; 
Or  sit  beside  the  winding  path 

Bordered  by  ripening  wheat  or  oat, 
When  on  the  gentle  summer  air 

The  poppy's  crimson  banners  float. 


192  WILD      FLOWERS. 

And  O,  I  joy  as  Spring  comes  round, 

Flinging  her  scent  o'er  glen  and  hill 
For  though  I  love  the  garden  flo\vers 

I  love  the  wild  buds  better  still. 
Then  let  me  stray  into  the  fields, 

Or  seek  the  green  wood's  shady  bowers, 
Marking  the  beauties  and  the  scents, 

Of  simple  blossoms — sweet  wild  flowers. 

DECISION   OF    THE    FLOWER. 

BY    L.    E.    LANDON. 

AND  with  scarlet  poppies,  around  like  a  bower, 
The  maiden  found  her  mystic  flower 
"Now,  gentle  flower,  I  pray  thee  tell 
If  my  lover  loves  me,  and  loves  me  well : 
So  may  the  fall  of  the  morning  dew 
Keep  the  sun  from  fading  thy  tender  blue, 
Now  I  number  the  leaves  for  my  lot — 
He  loves  not — he  loves  me — he  loves  me  not — 
He  loves  me — yes,  thou  last  leaf,  yes — 
I'll  pluck  thee  not  for  the  last  sweet  guess  ! 
He.  loves  me  !" — "  Yes,"  a  dear  voice  sigh'd, 
And  her  lover  stands  by  Margaret's  side. 


THE    WILD    FLOWERS. 

BY   F.    J.    SMITH. 

SWEET  wilding  tufts,  that  'mid  the  waste, 

Your  lowly  buds  expand  ; 
Though  by  no  sheltering  walls  embraced, 

Nor  trained  by  beauty's  hand  : 
The  primal  flowers  which  grace  your  stems, 

Bright  as  the  dahlias  shine, 
Found  thus,  like  unexpected  gems, 

To  lonely  hearts  like  mine. 

'Tis  a  quaint  thought,  and  yet,  perchance, 

Sweet  blossoms,  ye  are  sprung 
From  flowers  that  over  Eden  once 

Their  pristine  fragrance  flung ; — 
That  drank  the  dews  of  Paradise, 

Beneath  the  starlight  clear  ; 
Or  caught  from  Eve's  dejected  eyes 

Her  first  repentant  tear. 

17  193 


A    WILD    FLOWER    WREATH. 

BY  THE    AUTHOR   OF    "  NugCB  SaCTO. 

If  stranger  hands  might  dare 
A  wild-flower  wreath  prepare, 
The  sweet  enthusiastic's  hair, 

Her  flowing  hair  to  hind — 
Oh  !  I  would  haste  to  bring 
The  violet  of  Spring, 
"Whose  odours  scent  the  wing 

Of  every  massing  wind. 

Each  flower  that  early  blows, 
The  May-bough's  wreathed  snows, 
The  wild-brier's  folded  rose, 

And  woodbine's  fragrant  bloom  ; 
The  speedwell's  eye  of  blue, 
Suffused  with  morning  dew, 
Should  smilingly  glance  through 

The  tresses  of  the  broom. 
394 


A     WILD     FLOWER     WREATH.  195 

The  rustic  blushing  heath, 
That  lurks  the  fern  beneath, 
Should  grace  our  wilding  wreath 

With  many  a  pendant  bell ; 
The  fair  anemone 
Might  well  with  these  agree, 
Reft  from  her  sheltering  tree, 

Low  in  the  copsewood  dell. 

No  less  the  floweret  pale, 

The  lily  of  the  vale 

That  scents  the  roving  gale, 

Yet  loves  its  leafy  shade  ; 
And  well  my  hand,  I  ween, 
(If  such  my  task  had  been,) 
Could  twine  the  myrtle  green 

To  crown  the  mountain  maid. 


THE    COWSLIP. 

UNFOLDING  to  the  breeze  of  May, 
The  Cowslip  greets  the  vernal  ray  ; 
The  topaz  and  the  ruby  gem, 
Her  blossom's  simple  diadem  ; 
And,  as  the  dew-drops  gently  fall, 
They  tip  with  pearls  her  coronal. 

In  princely  halls  and  courts  of  kings 
Its  lustrous  ray  the  diamond  flings  ; 
.Yet  few  of  those  who  see  its  beam, 
Amid  the  torch-light's  dazzling  gleam. 
As  bright  as  though  a  meteor  shone, 
Can  call  the  costly  prize  their  own. 

But  gems  of  every  form  and  hue 
Are  glittering  here  in  morning  dew  ; 
Jewels  that  all  alike  may  share 
As  freely  as  the  common  air  ; 
No  niggard  hand,  or  jealous  eye, 
Protects  them  from  the  passer  by. 
196 


COWSLIP.  197 

Man  to  his  brother  shuts  his  heart, 
And  Science  acts  a  miser's  part  ; 
But  Nature,  with  a  liberal  hand, 
Flings  wide  her  stores  o'er  sea  and  land 
If  gold  she  gives,  not  single  grains 
Are  scatter'd  far  across  the  plains  ; 
But  lo,  the  desert  streams  are  roll'd 
O'er  precious  beds  of  virgin  gold. 
If  flowers  she  offers,  wreaths  are  given, 
As  countless  as  the  stars  of  heaven  : 
Or  music  —  'tis  no  feeble  note 
She  bids  along  the  valleys  float ; 
Ten  thousand  nameless  melodies 
In  one  full  chorus  swell  the  breeze. 

Oh,  art  is  but  a  scanty  rill 
That  genial  seasons  scarcely  fill. 
But  nature  needs  no  tide's  return 
To  fill  afresh  her  flowing  urn  ; 
She  gathers  all  her  rich  supplies 
Where  never-failing  waters  rise. 


17* 


DAFFODILS. 

FAIR  Daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 

You  haste  away  so  soon  ; 
As  yet  the  early  rising  sun 

Has  not  attained  his  noon  : 
Stay,  stay 

Until  the  hastening  day 
Has  run 

But  to  the  even-song 
And,  having  pray'd  together,  we 

Will  go  with  you  along 

We  have  short  time  to  stay  as  ye, 

We  have  as  fleet  a  spring, 
As  quick  a  growth  to  meet  decay 

As  you  or  any  thing  ; 
We  die 

As  your  hours  do,  and  dry 
Away, 

Like  to  the  summer's  rain, 
Or  as  the  pearls  of  morning's  dew, 

Ne'er  to  be  found  again. 

198 


THE    VIOLETS'     SPRING    SONCL 

BY    L.    A.   TWAMLET. 

UNDER  the  hedge  all  safe  and  warm, 
Sheltered  from  boisterous  wind  and  storm 

We  violets  lie ; 

With  each  small  eye 
Closely  shut  while  the  cold  goes  by. 

You  look  at  the  bank,  'mid  the  biting  frost, 
And  you  sigh  and  say  that  we're  dead  and  lost 

But  lady,  stay 

For  a  sunny  day, 
And  you'll  find  us  again  alive  and  gay. 

On  mossy  banks,  under  forest  trees, 
You'll  find  us  crowding,  in  days  like  these ; 

Purple  and  blue, 

And  white  ones  too, 
Peep  at  the  sun  and  wait  for  you. 

By  maids  and  matrons,  by  old  and  young, 
By  rich  and  poor  our  praise  is  sung; 

199 


200          THE    VIOLKT'S    SPRING    SONO. 


And  the  blind  man  sighs 

When  his  sightless  eyes 
He  turns  to  the  spot  where  our  perfumes  rise. 
There  is  not  a  garden  the  country  through, 
Where  they  plant  not  violets  white  and  blue  ; 

By  princely  hall, 

And  cottage  small — 

For  we're  sought,  and  cherished,  and  culled  by  all. 
Yet  grand  parterres,  and  stiff-trimmed  beds, 
But  ill  become  our  modest  heads  ; 

We'd  rather  run, 

In  shadow  and  sun, 

O'er  the  banks  where  our  merry  lives  first  begun. 
There,  where  the  birken  bough's  silvery  shine 
Gleams  over  the  hawthorn  and  frail  woodbine, 

Moss,  deep  and  green, 

Lies  thick,  between 

The  plots  where  we  violet-flowers  are  seen. 
And  the  small  gay  Celandine's  stars  of  gold 
Rise  sparkling  beside  our  purple's  fold  : — 

Such  a  regal  show 

Is  rare,  I  trow, 
Save  on  the  banks  were  violets  grow. 


TO   A   ROSE. 

SINCE  king  and  shepherd  own 

Thee  for  the  queen  of  flowers, 
When  thou  art  fully  blown 

In  Summer-laughing  hours ; 
Since  none  partake  thy  throne  ; 

What  need  a  Poet's  powers 
To  make  thy  kingdom  known, 

Thou  sovereign  of  the  bowers  ? 

What  need  to  rJaint  the  state 

Of  amber-haired  Morn  ? 
Or  the  ripe  Day  relate, 

Which  is  in  ocean  born  ? 
These  all  confess  are  great ; 

And  yet  all  tongues  adorn — 
Pure  love  cannot  abate, 

Nor  duty  be  forborne. 

201 


202  TO     A     ROSE. 

Thou  flower  of  heavenly  seed  ! 

Emphatical  delight ! 
Thou,  in  whose  leaves  we  read 

The  soul  of  crimson  light ! 
That  married  art,  indeed, 

And  vow'd  to  Summer  bright ; 
And  didst  of  Spring  proceed ; 

What  tongue  can  paint  thee  right  ? 


Ere  thou  art  born  on  earth, 

The  shepherds  sing  thy  praise  ; 
The  cities  waken  mirth, 

In  hope  of  flowery  days  : 
Thou  art  the  chiefest  birth, 

That  swelling  Nature  pays, 
To  ransom  Winter's  dearth, 

And  Spring's  unkind  delays. 


The  pink  and  violet  meet, 
The  jasmine  dwells  in  thee, 

The  honey-suckle  sweet, 
The  jacinth  budding  free  ; 


TO     A     E08E.  203 


In  thee  what  odors  greet 
The  longing  sense,  agree  ; 

And  reign  in  lovely  heat — 
As  fountains  in  the  sea. 


Methinks  thou  hast  a  tongue 

That  answers  me  again, 
With  lovely  Muses  hung  ; 

((  O,  waste  not  love  in  vain  ; 
But  let  HIS  praise  be  sung, 

Who  bade  me  blush,  and  reign 
O'er  flowers ;  by  whom  I  sprung ; 

The  God  of  land  and  main  ! 


«  My  life,  I  know,  is  brief ; 

My  crimson  shall  grow  pale ; 
And  I  shall  shed  my  leaf, 

And  all  my  odors  fail : 
But  this  can  breed  no  grief; 

/  love,  and  shall  prevail ; 
And  God  shall  give  relief, 

And  raise  me  up  from  bale. 


204  TO     A     ROSE. 

"And  what  the  Spring  to  me, 

Prophetic,  may  appear, 
Is  heaven,  O  man,  to  thee, 

An  ever  blooming  year : 
Where  thou  shall  Angels  see, 

And  their  sweet  harpings  hear  ; 
If  thou  God's  servant  be, 

And  keep  his  counsel  dear." 


O  preacher  of  the  mead, 

Thy  sermon  is  diVine  ; 
And  doth  from  God  proceed, 

Who  cause  thee  thus  to  shine ; 
O  Rose,  in  crimson  weed: 

And  may  I  make  it  mine ; 
And  thus  be  learn'd  indeed, 

When  sun  and  stars  decline  I 


THE    ALPINE    VIOLET 

BY   BYRON. 

THE  spring  is  come,  the  violet's  gone, 
The  first-born  child  of  the  early  sun ; 
With  us  she  is  but  a  winter  flower, 
The  snow  on  the  hills  cannot  blast  her  bower, 
And  she  lifts  up  her  dewy  eye  of  blue, 
To  the  youngest  sky  of  the  self-same  hue. 

But  when  the  spring  comes  with  her  host 
Of  flowers,  that  flower,  beloved  the  most, 
Shrinks  from  the  crowd,  that  may  confuse 
Her  heavenly  odors  and  virgin  hues. 

Pluck  the  others,  but  still  remember 
Their  herald  out  of  dire  December; 
The  morning  star  of  all  the  flowers, 
The  pledge  of  daylight's  lengthened  hours ; 
And  'mid  the  roses  ne'er  forget 
The  virgin,  virgin  violet. 

18  205 


THE   ENCHANTED   PLANTS. 


FABLES    IN    TERSE. 

BY      MADAM      M  0  X  T  0  L  I  K  17  . 


INTRODUCTION. 

OFT  to  beguile  the  sultry  hours, 
In  thought  I've  animated  flowers, 

Enlivening  every  walk ; 
And  though  no  botanist  professed, 
Their  reasoning  powers  have  shrewdly  guessed, 

And  longed  to  hear  them  talk. 

It  chanced  one  lovely  day  in  June, 
Just  at  the  madding  time  of  moon, 

I  spoke  this  wish  aloud  ; 
When  from  a  Pansy,  with  surprise, 
I  saw  a  gradual  mist  arise, 

And  form  a  silvery  cloud. 
206 


THE  ENCHANTED  PLANTS.        207 

Forth  from  the  glittering  veil,  behold, 
In  insect  trappings,  green  and  gold, 

A  faery  figure  sprung, 
Her  wand  a  cowslip's  stamen  seemed, 
And  on  her  head  like  diamonds  beamed 

A  casque  with  dew-drops  hung. 

Her  silken  pinions  as  she  flew, 
Seemed  by  their  size  and  purple  nue, 

Spoils  of  the  flowers  she  left : 
She  soared  aloft  and  touched  mine  ear, 
While  I,  half  pleased,  half  dead  with  fear, 

Remained  of  speech  bereft. 

Then  first  a  small,  melodious  tone, 
Before  to  mortal  wight  unknown, 

Struck  my  enraptured  sense  ; 
«  Flora,"  it  murmured,  «  grants  thy  prayer, 
Long  have  her  treasures  been  thy  care, 

Receive  thy  recompense." 

This  said,  she  vanished  from  my  sight, 
And  since,  with  ever  new  delight, 
I  tend  my  fragrant  hoards  ; 


208  THE      ENCHANTED     PLANTS. 

No  solitude  exists  for  me, 
Since  every  flower  and  shrub  and  tree, 
Society  affords. 


GRUMBLING. 

ONE  day,  when  winter  ruled  the  skies, 

I,  shivering  by  the  flame, 
Heard  a  strange  hurly-burly  rise, 

A.nd  wondered  whence  it  came 

Spite  of  the  season's  biting  gales, 
I  traced  the  uncommon  sound, 

And  found  four  plants/in  snowy  veils, 
Muttering  on  gifted  ground. 

A  Crocus  bright  peeped  forth  alone, 
The  rest  lay  snug  concealed, 

Till  each,  with  discontented  tone, 
Her  name  and  woes  revealed. 


THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS.  209 


To  Flora  were  their  vows  addressed, 
N    In  supplicating  mood  ; 
The  Crocus  first  her  plaints  expressed, 
And  thus  her  grievance  stood. 

"  Oh,  Flora,  cruel  mother  !  say, 

Why  suckle  me  with  snow  ? 
And,  why  not  let  thy  Crocus  stay 

Till  rival  beauties  blow  ? 

"  In  spring,  when  every  shrub  and  flower 

Rejoices  in  the  sun, 
Like  babe  entombed  at  early  hour, 

My  shivering  race  is  run. 

"  Let  me  but  once,  among  the  gay, 

My  place  with  rapture  find  ; 
Once  hail  the  balmy  breath  of  May, 

Thenceforward  I'm  resigned." 

She  ceased  ;  another  plaintive  moan 
Arose  from  neighbouring  root ; 

The  modest  Violet,  wayward  grown, 
Presumed  to  urge  her  suit. 
18* 


210  THE      ENCHANTED     V  LA  NTS. 

"  Oh,  hear  a  timid  suppliant's  prayer, 

Nymph  of  the  blushing  hours, 
Incline,  and  rescue  from  despair, 

The  most  forlorn  of  Flowers  ! 

"  Fair  am  I  formed,  and  sweet  'tis  true, 
Thy  favourite  blue-eyed  maid  ; 

Each  spring  am  fed  with  pearly  dew, 
But  cloistered  in  the  shade. 

"  Were  I  exalted  on  my  stem 

By  solar  beams  inspired  ; 
What  Pink,  what  Rose,  what  fragrant  gem, 

Like  me  would  be  admired  ?" 

"  How,"  cried,  with  royal  pride,  the  Rose, 

(Betrayed  by  her  petition, 
Or  else  what  mortal  could  suppose 

She  liked  not  her  condition  ?) 

(t  Shall  such  mean  reptiles  dare  complain, 

Sweet  ruler  of  the  year  ! 
While  I,  thy  vice-queen,  crowned  in  vain, 

Here  shed  the  silent  tear  ? 


I 


THE      ENCHANTED     PLANTS.  211 

"  Though  bright  my  tints,  perfumed  my  breath, 

Though  cherished  by  the  fair, 
Though  when  I  fade,  even  after  death, 

My  virtues  honored  are  : 

((  Yet  in  my  season,  numerous  powers 

Approach  too  near  the  throne  ; 
The  embroidered  garden,  rich  with  flowers, 

Scarce  will  my  empire  own. 

t(  If  blushing  to  thy  court  I  came, 

When  autumn  rules  the  day, 
Then  should  I  sovereign  homage  claim, 

And  hold  despotic  sway." 

"  Despotic  sway,  indeed  !"  replied 

The  image  of  the  sun  ; 
{t  In  June  rejoice  to  curb  thy  pride, 

My  reign  is  not  begun. 

"  Though  native  of  a  distant  clime, 

No  British  bloom  I  boast ; 
Yet  know,  proud  plant  !  my  form  sublime, 

Eclipses  all  thine  host. 


212  THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS. 


«  Goddess  !  in  radiant  glories  dressed, 

Let  me  henceforth  appear, 
By  summer's  brightest  beams  caressed, 

Nor  wait  the  closing  year." 

"  Ungrateful  tribe  !" — with  angry  pause, 
The  indignant  Goddess  cries, 

"  Not  in  the  season's  wholesome  laws, 
Your  cause  of  grievance  lies. 

f<  Spoiled  by  prosperity,  ye  pine, 

Like  many  a  pampered  fair ; 
But  wo  to  all,  should  I  incline, 

And  grant  to  each  her  prayer. 

(f  So  nicely  are  your  hours  arranged, 

To  every  season  linked, 
That  Nature's  laws  one  moment  changed, 

Your  race  would  be  extinct." 

She  spoke  ;  then  bade  the  blast  arise, 

Her  message  to  convey ; 
Boreas,  swift  rushing  through  the  skies, 

Swept  all  their  sighs  away. 


THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS.  213 


FABLE   II. 

SCANDAL, 

OR  THE    PAINTED    LADT   SWEET-PEA. 

GAT  Anemone,  daughter  of  Ar 

(Her  ancestors  sprung  from  the  wood) 

To  Ranunculus,  friend  of  her  heart, 
Chattered  scandal  as  fast  as  she  could. 

One  evening  the  subject  she  chose, 

Was  peculiarly  painful  to  me  ; 
For  my  favourite  next  to  the  Rose, 

Is  the  pink-and- white  sweet-scented  Pea. 

"  Look  there  !"  said  the  fanciful  flower, 
(By  whimsical  botanists  dressed) 

{t  How  yon  vain  youthful  plant  of  an  hour, 
Smiles  and  flaunts  like  a  beauty  professed. 

"  Though  with  us  in  the  garden  displayed, 
Unimproved  her  corollas  remain, 

Still  blushing,  unformed,  unarrayed, 

Like  her  cousins  who  bask  on  the  plain." 


214  THE      ENCHANTED     PLANTS. 


"  How  blushing  !"   her  friend,  sneering,  cries, 
t(  The  old  Daffodil  whispered  last  night, 

And  you  know  on  those  subjects  she's  wise, 
That  this  inrrocent  paints  red  and  white. 

"  While  her  exquisite  honeyed  perfume 
For  which  the  bees  teaze  her  to  death, 

They  have  found  too,  and  so  I  presume, 
Is  fictitious  to  cover  her  breath. 

(f  Then  to  see  how  she  flirts  with  them  all, 
How  she  aims  in  a  nosegay  to  shine 

And  because  she  is  painted  and  tall, 
Conceits  herself  blooming  and  fine." 

A  Sweet- William,  concealed  in  the  shade, 
Who  their  kind  observations  had  heard, 

Much  loving  the  bright-bosomed  maid, 
Thought  it  high  time  to  put  in  a  word. 

(i  Fine  ladies,  your  eloquence  spare, 

Oh,  spare  it,  in  pity  to  me  ! 
Or  my  heart  is  quite  lost  to  the  fair, 

Supremely  fair,  sweet-scented  Pea. 


THE     ENCHANTED      PLANTS.  215 

«  For  envy  alone  could  suggest 

The  rank  malice  that  fell  from  your  tongue, 
And  your  censures  completely  expressed, 

That  she's  innocent,  lovely,  and  young. 

"  Pink  and  silver,  like  midsummer  skies, 
Is  it  thence  you  her  blushes  defame, 

That,  amazed  at  her  own  brilliant  dyes, 
Nature  once  stooped  to  Art  for  a  name  ! 

"By  thus  over-shooting  the  mark, 
Poor  ill-nature  defeats  her  own  end  ; 

As  a  glow-worm's  more  bright  in  the  dark, 
You're  but  foils  to  my  beautiful  friend  ; 

"  Doomed  malicious  old  virgins  to  fade, 

Whom  multiplied  petals  deform, 
While  she  her  soft  banner  displayed, 

Soon  will  shelter  her  fruit  from  the  storm." 

The  ladies  felt  something  like  shame, 
And  indignant  were  ready  to  cry, 

They  e'en  vowed  no  more  beauties  to  blame- 
That  is  —  when  Sweet-William  is  by. 


216  THK      ENCHANTED     PLANTS. 


FABLE    III. 
DESPAIR. 

LIST,  maidens,  in  this  witching  hour, 
How  a  charmed  Hare-bell  loved  a  swain 

Yclep'd  the  shepherd  of  the  bower, 
Who  cared  not  for  her  pain. 

Yet  he,  forsooth,  was  kind  and  good, 
And  he  wooed  Geraldine  the  fair, 

And  gathered  garlands  in  the  wood 
To  deck  her  golden  hair. 

He  culled  the  wild  Rose  wet  with  dew, 
He  culled  the  Lily  of  the  vale, 

And  Eglantine,  and  Violet  blue, 
Sweet  May,  and  Primrose  pale. 

And  eke  this  small  bell,  mid  the  grass, 
His  eye  exploring  oft  would  meet — 

And  yet  he  stooped  not,  for  alas  ! 
She  breathed  no  tempting  sweet. 


THE     ENCHANTED      PLANTS.  217 

«  Oh  !"  then,  in  pleading  strain,  cried  she, 
"  Too  lovely  shepherd  of  the  bower ! 

Would  that  I  were,  till  plucked  by  thee, 
The  green  wood's  sweetest  flower. 

"  And  fading,  on  thy  gentle  breast 

One  happy,  happy  moment  lie, 
Once  to  thy  heart  be  fondly  pressed, 

And  then,  rejoicing,  die." 

One  luckless  morn  this  lover  flew 
O'er  dells  and  dingles  to  the  grove, 

To  greet  with  flowrets  bathed  in  dew 
The  birth-day  of  his  love. 

Alas  !  he  flew  with  careless  speed, 
For  he  right  gladsome  was  and  young, 

And  crushed  the  Hare-bell  of  the  mead, 
Who  thus  her  death-lay  sungj 

tl  O,  shepherd,  so  beloved  by  me 

My  early  doom  I  joyous  meet, 
Too  happy,  since  disdained  by  thee, 

To  perish  at  thy  feet." 
19 


J 


218  THE     ENCHANTED      PLANTS. 

Damsels,  profit  by  my  story, 

Thus  in  unfashioned  phrase  rehearsed, 
Prize  your  peace,  and  maiden  glory, 

Nor  love  who  loves  not  first. 


FABLE   IT. 

SENSIBILITY. 

FEELING  !  by  words  so  ill  defined, 

So  lovely  in  an  honest  mind, 

How  art  thou  grown  in  fashion's  schools, 

The  mask  of  vice,  the  cant  of  fools. 

How  oft  impatience,  temper's  storm, 
For  sanction  grasps  thy  glowing  form ! 
How  affectation,  beauty's  shame, 
And  weaknes^  prostitute  thy  name ! 

How  oft,  by  songs  and  novels  taught, 
They  who  ne'er  knew  one  generous  thought 
Their  sensibilities  reveal, 
Sacred  to  such  as  truly  feel. 


THB     ENCHANTED     PLANTS.  219 

She  who  the  orphan's  tear  neglects, 
Flavia,  the  tragic  muse  affects, 
In  sorrow  with  the  heroine  vies — 
Does  Flavia  feel,  because  she  cries  ! 

While  love-lorn  nymphs,  whom  vows  deceive 
Unmoved,  their  roof  paternal  leave ; 
Passion  for  sentiment  mistake, 
And  doom  a  parent's  heart  to  break. 

My  fancy,  wandering,  uncontrolled, 
Once  to  the  river's  side  I  strolled, 
When  to  my  mind  these  thoughts  occurred, 
Wakened  by  plaintive  sounds  I  heard. 

The  breeze  was  gentle  as  my  theme, 
And  Cynthia  mild  as  poet's  dream  ; 
And  hushed  was  every  leafy  spray, 
Save  the  sad  subject  of  my  lay. 

A  Willow,  bending  o'er  the  flood, 
Her  leaves  just  starting  from  the  bud, 
Like  bird  of  night,  I  heard  complain, 
In  moping  melancholy  strain. 


220  THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS. 

<*  Ah,  nature  !  why,  when  all  is  gay, 
Or  resting  from  the  toils  of  day, 
Why  is  my  waking  soul  the  shrine 
Of  sense  so  exquisitely  fine  ? 

l(  If  but  a  sunbeam  strikes  too  warm, 
How  faint  my  undulating  form ! 
The  most  dispirited  of  trees, 
If  hollow  sounds  the  evening  breeze. 

"  When  cloudy  yon  blue  vault  appears, 
Instant  I  droop,  dissolved  in  tears  ; 
If  but  a  Poplar  frowns  in  scorn, 
I  sorrow  that  I  e'er  was  born." 

While  thus  she  mourned,  she  sobbed  aloud, 
And  to  the  stream  her  branches  bowed  ; 
I  gazed  ;   and  still  she  wept  and  sighed, 
Yet  seemed  to  feel  a  secret  pride. 

An  Alder,  by  her  plaints  awoke, 
Thus  in  reproachful  accents  spoke, 
"Why,  Willow,  why  these  vigils  keep, 
And  break  the  sacred  hour  of  sleep  ? 


TI1K      K-XOH  ANTED     PLANTS.  221 

<{  Why  still  deem  Nature's  laws  perverse, 
Who  make  her  choicest  gifts  a  curse  ? 
Feeling,  whose  shrine  thy  tears  profane 
Is  not  the  eternal  nurse  of  pain. 

"  When  rain  and  tempest  rule  the  hours, 
How  sympathize  the  plants  and  flowers  ? 
The  sun  once  more  revives  the  plain, 
They  laugh  with  hope  and  joy  again. 

'*  Mark  pleasure's  fascinating  wiles, 
And  beauty's  heart-illumined  smiles  ; 
The  eye's  quick  glancing  rapture  tells, 
Unquestioned,  where  the  angel  dwells. 

"  Where  points  the  moon-beam,  dost  thou  see, 
Near  yon  gray  stone,  a  lofty  tree  ? 
The  Cypress,  mourner  of  the  grove, 
Placed  by  the  hand  of  widowed  love  ? 

<(  His  grief  with  dignity  he  bears, 
A  dark  and  settled  sorrow  wears  ; 
Affects  no  attitudes  of  wo, 
And  scorns  one  trivial  tear  should  flow. 
19* 


222  THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS. 

"  The  genuine  anguish  of  the  heart, 
Nor  tears,  nor  sobs,  nor  groans  impart 
But  like  this  deep  and  silent  wave, 
Steals  without  murmur  to  the  grave. 

*'  To  him,  who  pines  with  grief  sincere, 
Like  dreams  of  heavenly  bliss  appear, 
The  fancied  evils  you  deplore — " 
She  paused — the  Willow  wept  the  more. 


FABLE   V. 

CONTENTION. 

A  CHESTNUT-TREE  laden  with  bloom, 

A  Laburnum  with  boughs  dropping  gold, 

A  Hyacinth  breathing  perfume, 
.One  Spring  morning  proceeded  to  scold. 

The  cause  of  the  quarrel  averred, 
Was  a  doubt  in  an  ill-fated  hour, 

Which  for  beauty,  by  man  is  preferred, 
The  Tree,  or  the  Shrub,  or  the  Flower. 


THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS.  223 

The  Flower,  as  a  Lady  spoke  first 

And  (illiberal  Satire  says)  most, 
Sweets,  garlands,  charms,  emblems  rehearsed, 

And  made  lovers,  and  sonnets,  her  boast. 

But  this  was  so  common  a  ditty, 

And  the  shrub  held  her  merits  so  cheap, 

That  he  swore  she  was  pretty  and  witty, 
And  besought  her  her  counsel  to  keep. 

"Thy  delights,"  added  he,  "  are  confessed. 
Truly  nature  has  made  thy  race  fair, 

But  thy  beauties  by  monarchs  caressed, 
Thy  favors  e'en  cottagers  share. 

"We  shrubs  of  a  lineage  refined, 
Ne'er  stoop  with  plebeians  to  bloom, 

Though  Syringas,  of  ignoble  kind, 
By  chance  may  the  village  perfume. 

"  So  graceful  our  flexible  arms, 

Such  fragrance  our  blossoms  exhale, 

That  e'en  forest-trees  envy  our  charms, 
And  parterres  with  vexation  turn  pale." 


224  THE      ENCHANTED     PLANTS. 

The  Chestnut,  indignant  and  proud, 
Frowned,  as  if  he  both  parties  despised, 

And  shaking  his  branches  aloud, 

In  few  words  his  pretensions  comprised. 

«  Sweet  Flowret,"  (he  flattered  the  sex) 
"  I  perceive  my  protection's  required, 

And  lament  yonder  coxcomb  should  vex 
You,  made  to  be  loved  and  admired. 

tf  But  no  wonder  he  triumphs  o'er  you, 
Who  ventures  with  Oaks  to  compare, 

They  whose  might  Britain's  enemies  rue, 
Who  the  glory  of  conquerors  share. 

"  Let  fops  ring  their  own  empty  praises, 

Who  true  insignificance  feel, 
Self-boasting  but  ridicule  raises, 

Our  merits  let  others  reveal." 

The  furious  Laburnum  replied, 

The  Chestnut  retorted  again, 
The  flower  with  the  strongest  took  side, 

Yet  endeavored  their  rage  to  restrain. 


THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS.  225 

But  why  to  curb  anger  aspire  ? 

'Tis  a  torrent  that  roars  in  the  mind ; 
As  easy  to  reign  in  the  fire, 

Or  check  the  wild  gusts  of  the  wind. 

Each  grew  so  outrageous  at  last, 
Such  unparalleled  insults  occurred 

And  they  all  talked  together  so  fast, 

That  I  scarce  could  distinguish  one  word. 

So  fearing  that  breakfast  might  wait, 
And  conscious  no  blood  could  ensue, 

I  left  them  to  end  the  debate, 

And  came  home  to  relate  it  to  you. 


FABLE   VI. 

LOVE. 

FANCY  not,  men,  who  read  my  page 
That  only  care  and  spleen  Qngage 

The  blooming  tribes  I  sing  ; 
No — they  enjoy  the  world  like  you, 
Make  love,  feed,  sleep,  and  quaff  the  dew, 

And  frolic  in  the  spring. 


226  THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS. 

Like  mortals,  too,  of  various  taste, 

Some  plants  are  frail,  and  some  are  chaste, 

Some  with  affection  blessed  ; 
The  Hedysarum  loves  the  sun, 
Coquets  it  till  his  race  is  run, 

Then  nods,  and  sinks  to  rest. 

While  the  Mimosa,  modest  maid, 
Even  at  the  zephyr's  breath  dismayed, 

The  virgin's  fear  portrays; 
And  Lupins,  whom  their  buds  delight, 
Who  shield  them  from  the  damps  of  night, 

Deserve  a  mother's  praise. 

But  scandal  says  (what  won't  she  say  ?) 
That  every  flower  and  plant  is  gay, 

By  nature's  precepts  trained ; 
But  lest  my  muse  censorious  prove, 
I  only  sing  their  mortal  love, 

Too  pure  to  be  arraigned. 

At  six,  one  balmy  summer  morn, 
To  hail  June's  perfumes  newly  born, 
I  through  the  shrubbery  strayed 


THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS.  I'll 


When  from  the  myriads  all  around, 
The  accustomed  soft  and  silvery  sound, 
Rose  murmuring  through  the  shade 

But  chiefly  I  inclined  my  ear, 
A  curious  dialogue  to  hear 

Between  two  amorous  flowers  ; 
What  woman  but  had  done  the  same  ? 
For  each  was  talking  of  his  flame, 

Just  as  we  talk  of  ours. 

"  Let  Tulip  hear,  and  judge  our  cause, 
And  we  be  guided  by  his  laws," 

A  gallant  Larkspur  cried : 
"Done,"  cried  a  Pink,  with  double  crest, 
"  Which  of  us  Silvia  loves  the  best, 

Let  Tulip  now  decide." 


LARKSrCE. 


When  Silvia,  goddess  of  the  groves, 
Enchanted  through  her  garden  roves, 
Soon  as  my  tints  she  spies, 


228  THB     ENCHANTED     PLANTS. 

With  what  delight  she  stops  to  gaze, 
Soft  as  descending  dews  her  praise, 
Bright  as  the  sun  her  eyes. 

PINK. 

When  Silvia,  by  the  breeze  caressed, 
Herself  the  queen  of  flowers  confessed, 

Appears,  eclipsed  they  pine, 
For  me  she  oft  the  Rose  resigns, 
And  sighing  o'er  my  form  inclines, 

Her  breath  more  sweet  than  mine. 

LARKSPUR. 

Behold  this  spot,  how  large  a  space 
She  yields  to  us,  her  favourite  race, 

Placed  here  in  crowded  ranks  ; 
Armed  with  our  spurs,  I  heard  her  swear, 
"  None  but  the  brave  deserved  the  fair  ;" 

I  blushed,  and  bowed  my  thanks. 


Just  now  our  variegated  hue, 
And  rich  corollas  hung  with  dew. 
Attracted  Silvia's  eye, 


THE     ENCHANTED     PLANTS.  229 


She  placed  the  loveliest  on  her  breast, 
And  in  a  basket  heaped  the  rest, — 
By  chance  she  passed  me  by. 

"  Enough,  enough  !"  Sir  Tulip  cries, 

(( Be  wise,  brave  Larkspur,  yield  the  prize ; 

A  word  before  we  part ; 
Value  not  what  a  lady  says, 
Whom  her  words  slight,  or  whom  they  praise, 

Her  actions  speak  her  heart." 


THE    WALL -FLOWER. 

BY   WALTER   SCOTT. 

AND  well  the  lonely  infant  knew 
Recesses  where  the  wall-flower  grew, 
And  honey-suckle  loved  to  crawl 
Up  the  low  crag  and  ruin'd  wall ; 
I  deem'd  such  nooks  the  sweetest  shade, 
The  sun  in  all  his  round  surveyed, 
And  still  I  thought  that  shattered  tower, 
The  mightiest  work  of  human  power. 
20 


TEMPTATION. 

A   FLOHAIi    FABLE. 

"WHY,  flower  celestial  blue,  oh,  tell, 

Why  droops  thy  silken  head  ; 
Why  scarce  unfolded  hangs  thy  bell. 
Why  are  those  dew-drops  shed  ? 

tf  Has  the  east  blighting  nipped  thy  buds, 

Have  the  slugs  pierced  thy  leaves, 
Have  the  hot  sun-beams  drank  the  floods, 
Campanula  thus  grieves  ? 

"  Say,  on  this  dew-bespangled  lawn, 

Encircling  our  abode, 
Which  mingling  trees  and  shrubs  adorn, 
With  fragrant  blossoms  strewd. 
230 


TEMPTATION.  liol 

***f*^***r*^>svi^f<^*~*r*f><^r*ts*s*s^>^^ 

"  Watered  and  sheltered  from  thy  birth, 

Beneath  the  Acacia  bough, 
Placed  on  this  chosen  spot  of  earth, 
What  flower  so  blessed  as  thou  ?" 

Thus  a  bright  Lupin,  in  the  grove, 

Kind  as  a  summer-shower, 
'To  sooth,  in  gentle  accents  strove, 

A  melancholy  flower. 

"  Ah,  wo  is  me  !"  with  mournful  voice, 

I  heard  the  plaint  reply, 
"  Ne'er  shall  Convolvulus  rejoice, 

Here  doomed  to  pine  and  die. 

"  The  sun  was  scarcely  set  last  night, 

My  bells  began  to  close, 
When,  to  my  half-discerning  sight, 
A  lovely  vision  rose. 

"  How  shall  my  artless  speech  describe 

The  glories  of  its  form  ? 
It  seemed  of  that  aerial  tribe, 
Which  here  at  noontide  swarm. 


232  TEMPTATION. 

«  From  yonder  brake  on  rainbow  wing, 

It  soared  with  solemn  flight, 
Two  wings  were  pale  as  leaves  in  spring, 
Two  like  the  poppy  bright. 

" f  Sweet  flower  !  Oh  !  sweeter  far,'  it  said, 
<  Than  Musk-rose  of  the  dale  ; 
Sweeter  than  Furze,  or  Thymy  bed, 
On  Orange-scented  gale  ! 

tf  l  At  early  dawn,  thy  sapphire  brood 

I  passed  (to  roving  given) 
And  thought,  in  glassy  wave,  I  viewed 
The  smiling  face  of  heaven. 

(i  (  So  beauteous,  why  stay  here  and  sigh  ? 

Oh,  grant  thy  lover's  prayer  ! 
With  us  gay  wanderers  of  the  sky, 
Come  float  in  fields  of  air.* 

"  Then  with  a  pure  etherial  kiss, 
It  press'd  my  leaves  and  fled ; 
I  sigh  for  liberty  and  bliss, 
Fix'd  to  my  earthy  bed." 


TEMPTATION.  233 

"  Oh,  shame  !"  said  Lupin,  "  shame  to  grieve, 

Beware  the  tempter's  theme 
Thus  fell  the  flower  of  Eden,  Eve, 
Deluded  by  a  dream. 

((  Yon  sun-born  tribes,  like  man,  may  range. 

With  stronger  wills  impressed, 
But  shall  the  wild  desire  of  change, 
Infect  thy  gentler  breast  ? 

"  They  who  o'er  hill,  and  dale  and  flood, 

A  thousand  perils  brave, 
Oft  welter  in  the  field  of  blood, 
Or  perish  in  the  wave. 

«  We,  happier  far,  their  pleasure  share, 

Happier  in  death,  our  doom, 
Fade  in  the  garlands  of  the  fair, 
Or  strew  the  hero's  tomb. 

»f  Then,  oh  '.  beware  the  flatterer's  speech, 

Thy  favored  station  keep" 

But  long  ere  Lupin  ceased  to  preach, 
The  Flowret  fell  asleep. 
20* 


VULGARITY, 


FLOBAl    FABLE. 

ONE  August  morn,  before  the  sun 
Had  reached  his  glorious  height, 

What  time,  ere  harvest  is  begun, 
The  corn-fields  most  delight. 

Snug  by  a  hedge,  o'erhung  with  trees, 
Where  blades  less  numerous  grew, 

A  nest  of  Poppies,  placed  at  ease, 
Conversed  with  Bottles  blue. 

1 1  wonder  much,"  with  rustic  grace, 

A  Poppy  thus  began, 
tf  Why  our  mild  inoffensive  race 
Is  so  despised  by  man. 
234 


VCLGARITT.  235 


"  The  farmer,  in  whose  fields  we're  found, 

Rejects  us  with  disgrace, 
And  looks  on  Poppies  in  his  ground, 

As  pimples  in  his  face. 

(l  Man  too,  of  strange,  perverted  taste, 

Miscalls  our  potent  sweets ; 
Yet  leeks  are  mid  his  dainties  placed, 

And  onions  crown  his  treats. 

"The  same  high  parentage  we  claim 

With  oriental  plants, 
And  near  relations,  bear  his  name, 

Who  in  the  garden  flaunts. 

"Owned  to  hy  soporific  powers, 
Who  share  the  doctor's  pride, 

Connected  with  physician  flowers, 
To  science  we're  allied. 

"How  bright,  mid  universal  green, 

Our  scarlet  host  appears, 
Not  in  more  splendid  garb  are  seen, 

St.  James'  Volunteers. 


236  VULQAKITY. 


«  And  we,  a  mild  cerulean  fair," 

A  Blue-bottle  replies, 
«  Though  less  conspicuous,  proudly  wear 

The  livery  of  the  skies. 

"  From  Switzerland's  romantic  heights, 

Sprung  our  exotic  race, 
Who  now  this  gentle  soil  delights, 

Who  British  gardens  grace. 

t(  Let  Roses  still  in  hackneyed  strain, 

With  Celia's  Lilies  blend, 
To  blue-eyed  Marian's  sighing  swain, 

Our  tints  new  flatteries  lend. 

<*  While  clowns,  those  tasteless  sons  of  gain, 

Contemn  the  painted  meads, 
On  profits  bent,  our  charms  disdain, 

And  scoffing  call  us  Weeds. 

"Amid  the  blades  that  glittered  round, 

One  loftier  than  the  rest, 
With  four-fold  spiky  honors  crowned, 

The  motley  throng  addressed. 


VtTLQABITY.  237 


"  '  Ye  vulgar  flowers,'  (she  seemed  to  frown) 

i  Who  our  bright  limits  share, 
Intruders  (as  at  routs  in  town 

Queer  country  neighbors  are.) 

« ( Where  industry  profusion  yields, 

How  dare  ye  creep  so  near  ? 
Go,  lurk  in  cold  neglected  fields  ; 

No  gipsies  harbor  here. 

te  e  Blasting  the  boon,  to  toil  assigned, 

111  omened  plants  ye  blow, 
Ceres,  indignant,  hates  your  kind, 

Nor  prospers  where  ye  grow.' '' 

She  spoke  ; — when  lo  !  a  hostile  troop 

The  reaper  band  appears ; 
The  trembling  flowers  began  to  droop — 

The  Wheat  to  shake  her  ears. 

Alas  !  they  chose  that  very  morn 

To  scatter  death  around, 
And  Poppies,  Blue-bottles,  and  Corn, 

Were  levelled  with  the  ground. 


VANITY. 

A  LILAC,  Flora's  darling  child, 
The  shrubbery's  early  pride, 

In  magic  accents  sweetly  wild, 
With  exultation  cried, 

"Avaunt  from  me,  ye  tardy  flowers 

That  grovel  near  the  ground, 
Compelled  to  wait  for  sultry  hours, 
In  verdant  fetters  bound  ! 

((  "While  I,  precursor  oft  of  May, 

In  orient  splendor  dressed, 
Make  the  cold  face  of  nature  gay, 

Her  first-born  most  caressed. 

{i  Warm  with  benevolence,  I  bloom, 
Pride  of  the  embowering  shade, 

Or  pluck'd,  the  gorgeous  dome  perfume 
Or  deck  yon  matchless  maid. 
238 


VANITY.  239 

"Not  even  the  queen  of  shrubs,  the  Rose, 

Can  double  gifts  bestow, 
Useless  her  humble  foliage  blows, 

Though  bright  her  petals  glow." 

This  uttered  with  triumphant  mien, 
Her  light  leaves  swelled  with  pride  ; 

Child  of  the  valley,  mild,  serene, 
The  Lily  thus  replied  : 

«(  Vain  blossom,  gem  of  transient  doom 
Whence  thy  presumptuous  boast  ? 

That  mid  Spring's  yet  unripened  bloom, 
Thy  charms  are  courted  most. 

"  True,  nature  fixed  with  care  divine 

Mid  opening  buds  thy  reign  ; 
What  place  to  thee  could  June  assign 

Amid  her  thronging  train  ? 

"  Where  trees  in  full  luxuriance  grow, 

How  vain  thy  boasted  shade  ! 
Where  in  bright  ranks  Carnations  blow, 

How  would  thy  faint  hues  fade  ! 


240 


«  By  Julia  are  thy  sweets  confessed, 
Soft  mingling  with  the  gale  ; 

But  place  thee  on  her  snowy  breast, 
How  soon  thy  odors  fail. 

"  Fair  mid  her  leaves,  thy  sister  see 

In  virgin  tints  attired, 
She  dwells  not  on  her  charms,  like  thee, 

Yet,  is  she  less  admired  ?" 

Abashed  her  purple  blushes  fled, 

The  pride  of  summer  came, 
And  Lilacs  numbered  with  the  dead, 

No  more  our  shepherds  name. 


JN    THE    ROSE. 

BY   SIR   H.    WOTTON. 

YE  violets,  that  first  appear, 
By  your  pure  purple  mantle  known, 
Like  the  proud  virgins  of  the  year, 
As  if  the  spring  were  all  your  own — 
What  are  ye  when  the  Rose  is  blown  ? 


SONGS    AND    CHORUS    OF    THE    FLOWERS. 

B  T     LEIOH     HUNT. 


ROSES. 


WE  are  blushing  roses, 
Bending  with  our  fulness, 

'Midst  our  close-capp'd  sister  buds 
Warming  the  green  coolness. 

Whatsoe'er  of  beauty 

Yearns  and  yet  reposes, 
Blush,  and  bosom,  and  sweet  breath, 

Took  a  shape  in  roses. 

Hold  one  of  us  lightly — 

See  from  what  a  slender 
Stalk  we  bower  in  heavy  blooms, 

And  roundness  rich  and  tender : 
21  241 


242  SONGS    AKD    CHORUS    OF   THE    FLOWERS. 


Know  you  not  our  only 
Rival  flower — the  human  ? 

Loveliest  weight  on  lightest  foot, 
Joy-abundant  woman  ? 


WE  are  lilies  fair, 

The  flower  of  virgin  light ; 
Nature  held  us  forth,  and  said, 

(t  Lo  !  my  thoughts  of  white."' 

Ever  since  then,  angels 

Hold  us  in  their  hands  ; 
You  may  see  them  where  they  take 

In  pictures  their  sweet  stands. 

Like  the  garden's  angels 

Also  do  we  seem ; 
And  not  the  less  for  being  crown'd 

With  a  golden  dream. 

Could  you  see  around  us 

The  enamour'd  air, 
You  would  see  it  pale  with  bliss 

To  hold  a  thing  so  fair. 


BONGS   AND   CHORUS    OF   THE   FLOWERS,  243 

****** N~N~~N*S^N~^*~ — **^s^*s~ — ^^^^N^^^^S^^, 

POPPIES. 

WE  are  slumbering  poppies, 

Lords  of  Lethe  downs, 
Some  awake,  and  some  asleep, 

Sleeping  in  our  crowns. 
What  perchance  our  dreams  may  know, 
Let  our  serious  beauty  show. 

Central  depth  of  purple, 

Leaves  more  bright  than  rose — 
Who  shall  tell  what  brightest  thought 

Out  of  darkest  grows  ? 
Who,  through  what  funereal  pain, 
Souls  to  love  and  peace  attain  ? 

Visions  aye  are  on  us, 

Unto  eyes  of  power; 
Pluto's  always-setting  sun, 

And  Proserpine's  bower : 
There,  like  bees,  the  pale  souls  come 
For  our  drink,  with  drowsy  hum. 

Taste,  ye  mortals,  also  ; 

MiJky-hearted,  we  ;  — 
Taste,  but  with  a  reverent  care  ; 

Active-patient  be. 


244  SONGS   AND    CHORUS    OF   THE   FLOWERS. 

Too  much  gladness  brings  to  gloom 
Those  who  on  the  gods  presume. 


WE  are  the  sweet  flowers, 
Born  of  sunny  showers, 
(Think,  whene'er  you  see  us,  what  our  beauty 

saith ;) 

Utterance,  mute  and  bright, 
Of  some  unknown  delight, 
We  fill  the  air  with  pleasure,  by  our  simple 

breath : 

All  who  see  us  love  us — 
We  befit  all  places  : 

Unto  sorrow  we  give  smiles — and  unto  graces, 
races. 

Mark  our  ways,  how  noiseless 
All,  and  sweetly  voiceless, 
Though  the  March-winds  pipe,  to  make  our 

passage  clear  ; 
Not  a  whisper  tells 
Where  our  small  seed  dwells, 
Nor  is  known  the  moment  green,  when  our  tips 
appear. 


SONOS    AND   CHORUS    OF   THE    FLOWERS.  245 

We  thread  the  earth  in  silence, 
In  silence  build  our  bowers — 
And  leaf  by  leaf  in  silence  show,  till  we  laugh 

a-top,  sweet  flowers. 
The  dear  lumpish  baby, 
Humming  with  the  May-bee, 
Hails  us  with  his  bright  star,  stumbling  through 

the  grass  ; 

The  honey-dropping  moon, 
On  a  night  in  June, 
Kisses  our  pale  pathway  leaves,  that  felt  the 

bridegroom  pass. 
Age,  the  wither' d  clinger, 
On  us  mutely  gazes, 
And  wraps  the  thought  of  his  last  bed  in  his 

childhood's  daisies. 
See  (and  scorn  all  duller 
Taste)  how  heav'n  loves  color ; 
How   great   Nature,  clearly,  joys  in  red  and 

green ; — 

What  sweet  thoughts  she  thinks 
Of  violets  and  pinks, 

And  a  thousand  flushing  hues,  made  solely  to 
be  seen :  " 
21* 


246  SONGS   AXD    CHOEUS   OF   THE    FLOWERS. 

See  her  whitest  lilies 
Chill  the  silver  showers, 

And  what  a  red  mouth  is  her  rose,  the  woman 
of  her  flowers. 

Uselessness  divinest, 

Of  a  use  the  finest, 
Painteth  us,  the  teachers  of  the  end  of  use  ; 

Travellers,  weary-eyed, 

Bless  us,  far  and  wide  ; 

Unto  sick  and  prison'd  thoughts  we  give  sudden 
truce  : 

Not  a  poor  town  window 

Loves  its  sickliest  planting, 
But  its  wall  speaks  loftier  truth  than  Babylonian 
vaunting. 

Sagest  yet  the  uses, 

Mix'd  with  our  sweet  juices, 

Whether  man  or  May-fly,  profit  of  the  balm, 
As  fair  fingers  heal'd 
Knights  from  the  olden  field 

We  hold  cups  of  mightiest  force   to  give  the 
wildest  calm.  N 


80NQ9    AND    CHOBC3    OF   THE    FLOWERS.  247 

Ey'n  the  terror,  poison, 
Hath  its  plea  for  blooming ; 
Life  it  gives  to  reverent  lips,  though  death  to 
the  presuming. 

And  oh  !  our  sweet  soul-taker, 

That  thief,  the  honey-maker, 
What  a  house  hath  he,  by  the  thymy  glen ! 

In  his  talking  rooms 

How  the  feasting  fumes, 
Till  the  gold  cups  overflow  to  the  mouths  of  men  ! 

The  butterflies  come  aping 

Those  fine  thieves  of  ours, 
And  flutter  round  our  rifled  tops,  like  tickled 
flowers  with  flowers. 


See  those  tops,  how  beauteous  ! 

What  fair  service  duteous 
Round  some  idol  waits,  as  on  their  lord  the  Nine 

Elfin  court  'twould  seem  ; 

And  taught,  perchance,  that  dream 
Which  the  old  Greek  mountain  dreamt,  upon 
nights  divine. 


I 


248  SONGS   ASO   CHOBCS   OP   THE   FLOWZE8. 

To  expound  such  wonder 
Human  speech  avails  not ; 
Yet  there   dies  no  poorest  weed,  that  such  a 
glory  exhales  not. 

Think  of  all  these  treasures 
Matchless  works  and  pleasures, 

Every  one  a  marvel,  more  than  thought  can  say, 
Then  think  in  what  bright  showers 
We  thicken  fields  and  bowers, 

And  with  what  heaps  of  sweetness  half  stifle 

wanton  May : 
Think  of  the  mossy  forests 
By  the  bee-birds  haunted, 

And  all  those  Amazonian  plains,  lone  lying  as 
enchanted. 

Trees  themselves  are  ours  ; 
Fruits  are  born  of  flowers  ; 
Peach,  and  roughest  nut,  were  blossoms  in  the 

spring : 

The  lusty  bee  knows  well 
The  news,  and  comes  pell-mell, 
And  dances  in  the  gloomy  thicks  with  darksome 
antheming. 


SONGS    ASD    CHOUCS    OF    THE    FLOWERS.  2  ID 

Beneath  the  very  burthen 
Of  planet-pressing  ocean, 

We  wash  our  smilingcheeksin  peace — a  thought 
for  meek  devotion. 

Tears  of  Phffibus — missings 

Of  Cytherea's  kissings, 

Have  in  us  been  found,  and  wise  men  find  them 
still; 

Drooping  grace  unfurls 

Still  Hyacinthus'  curls, 
And  Narcissus  loves  himself  in  the  selfish  rill : 

Thy  red  lip,  Adonis, 

Still  is  wet  with  morning ; 
And  the  step,  that  bled  for  thee,  the  rosy  brier 
adorning. 

O  !  true  things  are  fables, 
Fit  for  sagest  tables, 
And  the  flowers  are  true  things — yet  no  fables 

they; 

Fables  were  not  more 
Bright,  nor  loved  of  yore — 
Yet  they  grew  not,  like  the  flowers,  by  every 
old  pathway : 


250  SOXOS    AXD    CHOBUS    OF   THE    FLOWEBS. 

Grossest  hand  can  test  us  , 
Fools  may  prize  us  never: — 
Yet  we  rise,  and  rise,  and  rise — marvels  sweet 
for  ever. 

Who  shall  say  that  flowers 
Dress  not  heaven's  own  bowers  ! 

Who  its  love,  without  us,  can  fancy — or  sweet 

floor? 

Who  shall  even  dare 
To  say  we  sprang  not  there — 

And  came  not  down  that  Love  might  bring  one 

,  piece  of  heaven  the  more  ? 

O  !  pray  believe  that  angels 
From  those  blue  dominions, 

Brought  us  in  their  white  laps  down,  'twixt  their 
golden  pinions. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  ROSE. 

BT   ELIZABETH    B.    BARBETT. 

"  Discordance  that  can  accord ; 
And  accordance  to  discord." 

The  Komaunt  of  the  Rote. 

A  ROSE  once  pass'd  within 

A  garden,  April-green, 
In  her  Joneness,  in  her  loneness, 
And  the  fairer  for  that  oneness. 

A  white  rose,  delicate, 

On  a  tall  bough  and  straight, 
Early  comer,  April  comer, 
Never  waiting  for  the  summer; 

Whose  pretty  gestes  did  win 

South  winds  to  let  her  in, 
In  her  loneness,  in  her  loneness  ; 
Ail  the  fairer  for  that  oneness. 

251 


252  LAY     OF     THE     ROSE. 

"  For  if  I  wait,"  said  she, 

"  Till  times  for  roses  be, 
For  the  musk  rose,  and  the  moss  rose, 
Royal  red  and  maiden  blush  rose, 

"  What  glory  then  for  me, 

In  such  a  company? 
Roses  plenty,  roses  plenty, 
And  one  nightingale  for  twenty  ! 

"  Nay,  let  me  in,"  said  she, 

"  Before  the  rest  are  free, 
In  my  loneness,  in  my  loneness, 
All  the  fairer  for  that  oneness. 

(i  For  I  would  lonely  stand, 

Uplifting  my  white  hand, 
On  a  mission,  on  a  mission, 
To  declare  the  coming  vision. 

(( See  mine,  a  holy  heart, 

To  high  ends  set  apart,< — 
All  unmated,  all  unmated, 
Because  so  consecrated, 


I  A  Y     OP     THE     ROSE.  253 


"  Upon  which  lifted  sign, 
What  worship  will  be  mine  ! 
What  addressing,  what  caressing, 
What  thanks,  and  praise  and  blessing  ! 

"A  windMike  joy  will  rush 
Through  every  tree  and  bush, 
Bending  softly  in  affection, 

And  spontaneous  benediction. 
i 

"  Insects,  that  only  may 

Live  in  a  sunbright  ray, 
To  my  whiteness,  to  my  whiteness 
Shall  be  drawn,  as  to  a  brightness. 

f(  And  every  moth  and  bee 

Shall  near  me  reverently, 
Wheeling  round  me,  wheeling  o'er  me 
Coronals  of  motioned  glory. 

f(  I  ween  the  very  skies 
Will  look  down  in  surprise, 
When  low  on  earth  they  see  me, 
With  my  cloudy  aspect  dreamy. 
22 


254  LAY     OF      THE     ROSE. 

»  E'en  nightingales  shall  flee 
Their  woods  for  love  of  me, 
Singing  sadly  all  the  suntide, 
Never  waiting  for  the  moontide  ! 

"  Three  larks  shall  leave  a  cloud, 
To  my  whiter  beauty  vow'd, 
Singing  gladly  all  the  moontide, 
Never  waiting  for  the  suntide 

So  praying  did  she  win 
South  winds  to  let  her  in, 
In  her  loneness,  in  her  lonenes* 
And  the  fairer  for  that  oneness. 

But  out,  alas,  for  her ! 

No  thing  did  minister 
To  her  praises,  to  her  praises, 
More  than  might  unto  a  daisy's. 

No  tree  nor  bush  was  seen 
To  boast  a  perfect  green, 
Scarcely  having,  scarcely  having 
One  leaf  broad  enow  for  waving. 


LAY     OF     THE      K  0  S  E.  255 

The  little  flics  did  crawl 

Along  the  southern  wall, 
Faintly  shifting,  faintly  shifting 
Wings  scarce  strong  enow  for  lifting. 

The  nightingale  did  please 

To  loiter  beyond  seas, 
Guess  him  in  the  happy  islands, 
Hearing  music  from  the  silence. 

The  lark  too  high  or  low, 

Did  haply  miss  her  so — 
With  his  crest  down  in  the  gorses, 
And  his  song  in  the  star-courses  ! 

Only  the  bee,  forsooth, 

Came  in  the  place  of  both — 
Doing  honour,  doing  honour, 
To  the  honey-dews  upon  her. 

The  skies  look'd  coldly  down 

As  on  a  royal  crown  ; 
Then,  drop  by  drop,  at  leisure, 
Began  to  rain  for  pleasure. 


256  LAY     OF     THE      ROSE. 

Whereat  the  earth  did  seem 

To  waken  from  a  dream, 
Winter  frozen,  winter  frozen, 
Her  anguish  eyes  unclosing. 

Said  to  the  rose,  "  Ha,  Snow  ! 

And  art  thou  fallen  so  ? 
Thou  who  wert  enthroned  stately 
Along  my  mountains  lately. 

•e  Holla,  thou  world-wide  snow 

And  art  thou  wasted  so  ? 
With  a  little  bough  to  catch  thee 
And  a  little  bee  to  watch  thee  ?" 

Poor  rose,  to  be  misknown  ! 

Would  she  had  ne'er  been  blown, 
In  her  loneness,  in  her  loneness, 
All  the  the  sadder  for  that  oneness. 

v 

Some  words  she  tried  to  say, 

Some  sigh — ah,  well  away  ! 
But  the  passion  did  o'ercome  her, 
And  the  fair  frail  leaves  dropp'd  from  her. 


LAY     OF     THE     EOSE.  257 

Dropp'd  from  her,  fair  and  mute, 

Close  to  a  poet's  foot, 
Who  beheld  them,  smiling  lowly, 
As  at  something  sad  and  holy  ; 

Said,  "  Verily  and  thus, 

So  chanceth  e'er  with  us, 
Poets,  ringing  sweetest  snatches, 
While  deaf  did  men  keep  the  watches 

"  Saunting  to  come  before 

Our  own  age  evermore, 
In  a  loneness,  in  a  loneness, 
And  the  nobler  for  that  oneness 

"  But  if  alone  we  be 

Where  is  our  empiry  ? 
And  if  none  can  reach  our  stature 
Who  will  mate  our  lofty  nature  ? 

"  What  bell  will  yield  a  tone 

Saving  in  the  air  alone  ? 
If  no  brazen  clapper  bringing, 
Who  can  bear  the  chimed  ringing 
22* 


258  LAY     OF     THE     BOSE. 

"  What  angel  but  would  seem 

To  sensual  eyes  glent-dim  ? 
Arid  without  assimilation, 
Vain  is  interpenetration  ! 

"Alas  !  what  can  we  do, 

The  rose  and  poet  too, 
Who  both  antedate  our  mission 
In  an  unprepared  season  ? 

<  Drop  leaf — be  silent  song — 

Cold  things  we  came  among  ! 
We  must  warm  them,  we  must  warm  them 
Ere  we  even  hope  to  charm  them. 

"  Howbeit,"  here  his  face 

Highten'd  around  the  place, 
So  to  mark  the  outward  turning 
Of  his  spirit's  inward  burning. 

"  Something  it  is  to  hold 

In  God's  worlds  manifold. 
First  reveal'd  to  creatures  duty, 
A  new  form  of  His  mild  beauty. 


L 


LAY     OF     THE     H08B.  259 

"  Whether  that  form  respect 

The  sense  or  intellect, 
Holy  rest  in  soul  or  pleasance, 
The  chief  Beauty's  sign  of  presence. 

«  Holy  in  me  and  thee, 

Rose  fallen  from  the  tree, 
Though  the  world  stand  dumb  around  us 
All  unable  to  expound  us. 

Though  none  us  deign  to  bless, 
Blessed  are  we  natheless  ; 
Blessed  age  and  consecrated 
In  that,  Rose,  we  were  created  ! 

"  Oh,  shame  to  poet's  lays, 

Sung  for  the  dole  of  praise — 
Hoarsely  sung  upon  the  highway, 
With  an  '  obolum  da  mihi  /' 

"  Shame  !  shame  to  poet's  soul, 

Pining  for  such  a  dole, 
When  heaven-called  to  inherit 
The  high  throne  of  his  own  spirit ! 


260  LAY     OF     THE     KOSB. 

"  Sit  still  upon  your  thrones, 

O  ye  poetic  ones  ! 
And  if,  sooth,  the  world  decry  you, 
Why,  let  that  world  pass  by  you  ! 

"  Ye  to  yourselves  suffice, 

Without  its  flatteries ; 
Self-contentedly  approve  you 
Unto  Him  who  sits  above  you. 

"  In  prayers  that  upward  mount, 

Like  to  a  sunned  fount, 
And,  in  gushing  back  upon  you, 
Bring  the  music  they  have  won  you. 

"  In  thanks  for  all  the  good 

By  poets  understood — 
For  the  sound  of  seraphs  moving 
Through  the  hidden  depths  of  loving  ! 

«  For  sights  of  things  away, 
Through  fissures  of  the  clay, — 
Promised  things,  which  shall  be  given 
And  sung  ever  up  in  heaven  ! 


LAY     OF     THE     ROSE.  261 


t(  For  life,  sb  lonely  vain, 

For  death,  which  breaks  the  chain — 
For  this  sense  of  present  sweetness, 
And  this  yearning  to  completeness  !" 


ON    A    FADED    VIOLET. 

BY   SHELLEY. 

THE  odor  from  the  flower  is  gone 

Which,  like  thy  kisses,  breathed  on  me  ; 

The  color  from  the  flower  is  flown, 
Which  glow'd  of  thee,  and  only  thee  ! 

A  shrivel'd,  lifeless,  vacant  form, 
It  lies  on  my  abandon'd  breast, 

And  mocks  the  heart,  which  yet  is  warm, 
With  cold  and  silent  rest. 

I  weep — my  tears  revive  it  not ! 

I  sigh — it  breathes  no  more  on  me ; 
Its  mute  and  uncomplaining  lot 

Is  such  as  mine  should  be. 


HARE- BELL. 

SUBMISSION. 
BY   MARIE    ROSEAU. 

The  dainty  little  Hare-bell 
Is  pleasant  to  the  sight, 

With  its  tiny  azure  petals, 
And  stem  so  long  and  slight. 

A  timid,  fearful  flow'ret, 
It  trembleth  at  the  breeze, 

With  a  constant  shiv'ring  motion 
Like  the  leaves  of  Aspen  trees. 

So  very  frail  and  feeble 

Appears  its  tender  form, 
It  scarce  seems  fit  to  buffet 
With  a  single  raging  storm. 
262 


HARE-BELL.  263 

But  when  the  whirl-wind  soundeth 
A  strong  tempestuous  blast, 

Its  head  it  gently  boweth 

'Till  the  angry  wind  hath  past 

Then  from  the  stormy  conflict, 
With  winning,  quiet  grace, 

Unharmed,  once  more  it  riseth 
To  its  own  accustomed  place. 

For  He,  to  whom  it  oweth 

The  beauty  of  its  form, 
Hath  in  His  goodness  given 

The  strength  to  meet  the  storm. 

I  love  this  little  flowret, 

And  in  its  yielding  grace, 
Oft  in  my  thoughtful  fancy 

Imagine  I  can  trace 

Resemblance  to  a  dear  one, 

Who  hath  in  real  life, 
Bowed  with  such  calm  submission 

To  storms  of  angry  strife. 


264  HARE-BELL. 

Tho'  feeble,  frail  and  helpless, 
God  makes  her  strong  to  bear 

The  storms  of  dark  affliction, 
And  weight  of  weary  care. 


THE    FORGET    ME    NOT. 

NOT  on  the  mountain's  shelving  side, 
Nor  in  the  cultivated  ground, 

Nor  in  the  garden's  painted  pride, 
The  flower  I  seek  is  found. 

Where  Time  on  sorrow's  page  of  gloom 

Has  fix'd  its  envious  lot, 
Or  swept  the  record  from  the  tomb, 

It  says,  Forget-me-not. 

And  this  is  still  the  loveliest  flower, 

The  fairest  of  the  fair, 
Of  all  that  deck  my  lady's  bower, 

Or  bind  her  floating  hair. 


LOVE  SHUT  OUT  OF  THE  FLOWER  GARDEN. 

BY   MRS.    LAWBEXCE. 

CLOSE  the  porch  and  bar  the  door !  — 
Onward  may  thy  foot-steps  stray  : 

Never  more  an  idle  hour, 

Bend  thou  here  thy  treacherous  way. 

HEART'S-EASE  tremble  all  around, 
As  thy  wild  breath  wanders  by  ; 

ROSES,  to  thy  bosom  bound, 

Yield  their  latest,  sweetest  sigh. 

Cruel  boy  ! — abjured  and  scorned, 
Hear  thy  blushing  trophies  glow  ; 

LOVE-LIES-BLEEDING,  all  around — 

Speed  thee  !  dangerous  vagrant — go  ! 

Where  yon  fountain  sparkles  clear, 
Low  beneath  its  willowy  shade, 

Nurslings  of  one  parent  born, 
LOVE-AND-IDLENESS  have  played. 
23  265 


266   LOVE  SHUT  OUT  OF  THE  FLOWEK  GARDES. 

"Where  yon  wild  ROSE  flaunts  her  flowers, 
(Once  its  garlands  bound  my  hair) 

Changed  for  me  those  sunny  hours, 
Thou  thy  thorns  hast  planted  there. 

Frailest  WOODBINE,  all  untwined, 
Wanders  here,  forlorn  and  free  ; 

Emblem  of  the  maiden's  mind, 
Who  has  placed  her  trust  in  thee. 

How  within  my  calm  retreat, 
Could  thy  truant  footsteps  stray? 

Bowed  beneath  thy  breath's  control, 
Did  my  steadiest  fence  give  way. 

PASSION'S  FLOWERS  are  past  and  gone ; 

Still  around  one  lovely  spot, 
All  her  turquoise  gems  unchanged, 

Blooms  the  meek  FORGET-ME-NOT. 

Once  beneath  ihy  fickle  power, 
Glowed  the  hour  or  gloomed  the  day; 

Now  my  chastened  bosom  owns 
Wisdom's  rule  and  Reason's  swav. 


LOVE    SHUT    GOT    OF   THE    FLOWER   GARDEN.      267 

Leave  me  to  my  new  found  peace  ; 

Leave  me  to  my  late  repose : 
Her*  at  length  my  troubles  cease — 

Here  my  heart  forgets  its  woes 

Joy,  of  purer  influence  born, 

Hope  of  loftier  aim  I  know — 
Now  thy  stormy  power  I  scorn  ; 

Leave  me,  child  ! — thou  need'st  must  go. 

Art  thou  fled  without  a  word  ? 

Closed  the  porch  and  barred  the  door : 
Are  thy  loved  companions  gone  ? 

Fair-haired  youth  had  flown  before. 

Must  I  from  each  idol  part ; 

To  each  transport  bid  adieu, 
Which  around  my  youthful  heart 

Once  its  blest  delusions  threw  ? 

Yet  sweet  Love  !  with  tears  and  grief, 

I  thy  wings  receding  see  ; 
Sorrow  still  on  parting  waits, — 

Hope  and  joy  retire  with  thee  ! 


THE  CAPTIVE  AND  THE  FLOWERS. 

FKOM   THE    GERMAN    OF    GOETHE. 
CAPTITE. 

A  FLOWER  that's  wondrous  fair,  I  know, 

My  bosom  holds  it  dear ; 
To  seek  that  flower  I  long  to  go, 

But  am  imprison'd  here. 
'Tis  no  light  grief  oppresses  me ; 
For  in  the  days  my  steps  were  free, 

I  had  it  always  near. 
Far  round  the  tower  I  send  mine  eye, 

The  tower  so  steep  and  tall ; 
But  nowhere  can  the  flower  descry 

From  this  high  castle  wall ; 
And  him  who'll  bring  me  my  desire 
Or  be  he  knight,  or  be  he  squire, 

My  dearest  friend  I'll  call. 
268 


THE      CAPTIVE    -AND     THE     FLOWERS.       269 


My  blossoms  near  thee  I  disclose, 
And  hear  thy  wretched  plight ; 

Thou  meanest  me,  no  doubt,  the  rose, 
Thou  noble,  hapless  knight. 

A  lofty  mind  in  thee  is  seen, 

And  in  thy  bosom  reigns  the  queen 
Of  flowers,  as  is  her  right. 


Thy  crimson  bud  I  duly  prize 

In  outer  robe  of  green  ; 
For  this  thou'rt  dear  in  maiden's  eyes, 

As  gold  and  jewels'  sheen. 
Thy  wreath  adorns  the  fairest  brow, 
And  yet  the  flower — it  is  not  thou, 

Whom  my  still  wishes  mean. 

LILT. 

The  little  rose  has  cause  for  pride, 
And  upwards  aye  will  soar  ; 

Yet  am  I  held  by  many  a  bride 
The  rose's  wreath  before. 
23* 


270       THE      CAPTIVE     AND.   THE     FLOWERS. 


And  bears  thy  bosom  faithfully, 
And  art  thou  true,  and  pure  as  I, 
Thou'lt  prize  the  lily  more. 


I  call  myself  both  chaste  and  pure, 

And  pure  from  passions  low ; 
And  yet  these  walls  my  limbs  immure 

In  loneliness  and  woe. 
Though  thou  dost  seem,  in  white  array'd, 
Like  many  a  pure  and  beauteous  maid, 

One  dearer  thing  I  know. 

PINK. 

Ard  dearer  I.  the  pink,  must  be, 
And  me  thou  sure  dost  choose 

O   else  the  gard'ner  ne'er  for  me 
Such  watchful  care  would  use  ; 

A  crowd  of  leaves  enriching  bloom ! 

And  mine  through  life  the  sweet  perfume, 
And  all  the  thousand  hues. 


THE      CAPTIVE      AND      THE      FLOWERS.      271 


The  pink  can  no  one  justly  slight, 
The  gard'ner's  favorite  flower; 

He  sets  it  now  beneath  the  light, 
Now  shields  it  from  its  power. 

Yet  'tis  not  pomp,  who  o'er  the  rest 

In  splendor  shines,  can  make  me  blest ; 
It  is  a  still,  small  flower. 


I  stand  conceal'd,  and  bending  low, 
And  do  not  love  to  speak  ; 

Yet  will  I,  as  'tis  fitting  now, 
My  wonted  silence  break. 

For  if  'tis  I,  thou  gallant  man, 

Thy  heart  desires,  thine,  if  I  can, 
My  perfumes  all  I'll  make. 


The  violet  I  esteem  indeed, 
So  modest  and  so  kind 


272       THE     CAPTIVE     AND      THE     FLOW.EBS. 

Its  fragrance  sweet  yet  more  I  need, 

To  soothe  mine  anguish'd  mind. 
To  you  the  truth  will  I  confess ; 
Here,  'mid  this  rocky  dreariness, 

My  love  I  ne'er  shall  find. 
The  truest  wife  by  yonder  brook 

Will  roam  the  mournful  day, 
And  hither  cast  the  anxious  look, 

Long  as  immured  I  stay. 
Whene'er  she  breaks  a  small  blue  flower 
And  says,  "  Forget  me  not  !"  the  power 

I  feel,  though  far  away. 
Yes,  e'en  though  far,  I  feel  its  might, 

For  true  love  joins  us  twain, 
And  therefore  'mid  the  dungeon's  night 

I  still  in  life  remain. 
And  sinks  my  heart  at  my  hard  lot, 
I  but  exclaim,  "  Forget  me  not  !" 

And  straight  new  life  regain. 


f  ;wp;tp  aitir  Stutimtnts  0f  £Lotorrs, 


THE  NAME  OF  EVERY  FLOWER  TO  WHICH  A 
SJOiTIMEXT  HAS   BKE\   ASSIGNED. 


THE   H  '  N  0-BOOK 


LlMilMliK  &  SKMIMKM  OF  FLOWERS. 


INTRODUCTORY    OBSERVATIONS. 

By  all  those  token-flowers  that  tell 
What  words  can  ne'er  express  so  wel.. 

BYBOK 

Or  all  the  varied  productions  of  nature, 
there  is  none  more  agreeable  and  pleasing 
to  the  senses  and  to  the  itnasrination  than 
flowers.  Historic, il  and  fabulous  records 
connect  them  with  great  and  important 
events.  The  Greeks  and  Romans  decorated 
the  altars  of  their  gods  with  (lowers  in  their 
holy  feasts;  and  they  crowned  themselves 
with  wreaths  of  flowers-  and  on  days  of 


THE   LANGUAGE    AND 

great  solemnity,  placed  bouquets  upon  their 
tables.      Keats  thus  rehearses  the  custom: — 

Garlands  of  evety  green,  and  every  scent, 

From  vales  deflower'il.  or  forest  trees  branch-rent, 

In  baskets  of  bright  osiered  gold  were  brought. 

High  as  the  handles  heaped,  to  suit  the  thought 

Of  every  guest,  that  each  as  he  did  please 

Might  fancy  fit  his  brows,  silk-pillowed  at  his  ease. 

At  their  bridal  festivals — 

It  was  the  custom  there  to  bring  away 

The  bride  from  home  at  blushing  shut  of  day 

Veiled  in  a  chariot,  heralded  along 

By  strewn  flowers,  torches,  and  a  marriage  song. 

In  modern  times,  flowers  are  introduced 
on  festive  occasions,  in  various  places.  On 
Saints'  days,  in  Roman  catholic  countries, 
"  processions  are  formed  which  pass  under 
arches  hung  with  boughs,  occasionally  paus- 
ing before  altars  covered  with  flowers.  There 
the  eye  dwells  With  delight  on  the  most  beau- 
tiful garlands;  and  the  attendants,  who  are 
numerous,  are  ornamented  with  the  rarest 
flowers.  The  streets  are  strewed  with  them ; 
choristers  carry  baskets  full  of  roses  and  yel- 
low broom,  which  they  throw  at  intervals 
before  the  sacred  altars.  Ladies,  too,  who 


SENTIMENT    OF    FLOWERS. 

join  the  procession,  bear  baskets  of  flowers, 
which  thry  offer  to  the  saints.  The  sweet 
scents  of  the  rose,  cassia,  jessamine,  orange, 
and  tuberose,  mingle  with  the  odor  of  the 
burning  incense,  and  almost  overpower  the 
senses." 

And  we  have  May  day,  though  now  alas! 
ilit-  festivities  of  that  day  are  becoming  less 
universally  celebrated.  Either  the  inhabi- 
tants of  once  "merrie  England"  are  less 
light-hearted  than  in  days  of  yore,  or  there 
is  less  sociality  among  us;  and  perhaps  the 
coldness  of  the  season  has  tended  somewhat 
toward  its  desuetude. 

But  we  must  now  turn  more  immediate- 
ly to  notice  flowers  in  connexion  with  lan- 
guage, and  we  shall  find  that  nearly  all  na- 
tions are  acquainted  with  the  language  or 
sentiment  of  flowers.  The  custom  of  us- 
ing flowers  as  a  means  of  conveying  thoughts 
and  sentiments  is  of  Eastern  origin,  and  of 
very  remote  antiquity ;  we  find  them  as  im- 
ages of  some  poetical  idea,  or  as  represent- 
ing a  virtuous  or  vicious  quality.,  frequently 
introduced  in  oriential  writings,  both  sacred 
and  profane.  Some,  consecrated  to  tender 


THE    LANGUAGE   AND 

aiul  affectionate  remembrances,  serve  to  feed 
the  melancholy  mind ;  while  others  more 
numerous  than  the  latter,  awaken  ideas  of 
glory  and  happiness,  or  form  a  secret  and 
mysterious  language  for  the  use  of  friends 
and  lovers.  Percival,  in  writing  of  the  Sen- 
timent of  Flowers,  thus  sings  : — 

In  Eastern  lands  they  talk  in  flowers, 

And  they  tell  in  a  garland  their  loves  and  cares  ; 

Each  blossom  that  blooms  in  their  garden  bowers 
On  its  leaves  a  mystic  language  bears. 

The  rose  is  the  sign  of  joy  and  love, 

Young  blushing  love  in  its  earliest  dawn  ; 

And  the  mildness  that  suits  the  gentle  dove, 
From  the  myrtle's  snowy  flower  is  drawn. 

Innocence  shines  in  the  lily's  bell, 
Pure  as  a  heart  in  its  native  heaven  ; 

Fame's  bright  star  and  glory's  swell, 
By  the  glossy  leaf  of  the  bay  are  given. 

The  silent,  soft,  and  humble  heart, 

In  the  violet's  hidden  sweetness  breathes ; 

And  the  tender  soul  that  can  not  part, 
A  twine  of  evergreen  fondly  wreaths. 

The  cypress  that  darkly  shades  the  grave, 
Is  sorrow  that  mourns  its  hitter  lot ; 

And  faith  that  a  thousand  ills  can  brave, 
Speaks  in  thy  blue  leaves,  Forget-me-not. 

Then  gather  a  wreath  from  thy  garden  bowers, 
And  tell  the  wish  of  thy  heart  in  flowers 


SENTIMENT    OF    FLOWERS.  9 

The  Lady  Mary  Wortle.y  Montague,  in 
supposed  to  have  first  made  known  this  east- 
ern custom  to  Europeans.  When  residing 
at  Pera,  she  sent  a  Turkish  love-letter  to  a 
friend  in  England,  from  which  we  extract 
the  botanical  emblems. 

?/OD«.          You  are  as  slender  as  this  clove ! 

You  are  an  unblown  rose  ! 

I  have  long  loved  you,  and  you  have  not 

known  it. 

Jonquil.       Have  pity  on  my  passion  ! 
Pear.  Give  me  some  hope  ! 

A  Rose.       May   you   be   pleased,   and  your  sorrows 

mine  ! 

A  Straw.     Suffer  me  to  be  your  slave  ! 
Cinnamon.    But  rny  fortune  is  yours  ! 
Pepper.        Send  mo  an  answer ! 

Her  ladyship  states  that  there  is  no  flow- 
er without  a  verse  belonging  to  it ;  and  that 
it  is  possih  '  to  quarrel,  reproach,  or  send 
letters  of  passion,  friendship,  or  civility,  or 
even  of  news  without  ever  inking  the  fingers. 

The  sentiments  which  in  our  little  hand- 
book we  have  ascribed  to  the  flowers,  are 
chiefly  derived  from  the  ancients,  though 
some  are  of  a  more  modern  adaptation.  The 
ancients  in  assigning  a  flower  as  an  emblem 


10  THE   LANGUAGE   AND 

of  some  quality,  did  so  either  from  ;ts  con- 
nexion with  some  mythological,  warlike,  or 
historical  event,  or  from  the  circumstance 
of  the  predominating  quality  of  the  plant 
being  similar  to  that  which  it  was  intended 
to  represent.  In  the  research  we  were  com- 
pelled to  make,  in  preparing  for  publication 
"  The  Sentiment  of  Flowers,"*  we  found 
that  time,  instead  of  rendering  their  senti- 
ments less  appropriate,  had  confirmed  their 
fitness,  and  continually  added  new  charms 
to  the  language. 

Little  study  is  necessary  to  become  a  pro- 
ficient in  the  science  here  taught ;  nature 
has  been  before  us.  It  will  be  sufficient  to 
give  two  or  three  rules,  which  the  reader 
will  do  well  to  learn,  and  then  by  reference 
to  the  Vocabulary  he  will  be  enabled  to  con- 
verse in  the  language  of  flowers.  By  the 
first  rule,  a  flower,  presented  inclining  to  the 
right,  expresses  a  thought ;  reversed,  it  is 
understood  to  convey  the  contrary  of  that 


*  In  most  cases,  this  book  gives  the  reason  why  a 
flower  is  made  emblematical  of  the  quality  it  repre- 
sents 


SENTIMENT   OF    FLOWERS.  11 

sentiment.  For  example  :  A  rose-bud,  with 
its  thorns  and  leaves,  is  understood  to 
say,  "  I  fear  but  I  hope."  The  same  re- 
versed, would  signify  that  "  You  must  neith- 
er fear  nor  hope."  You  may  convey  your 
sentiments  very  well  by  a  single  flower.  As 
the  second  rule  : — take  the  rose-bud  which 
has  already  served  us  for  an  example,  and 
strip  it  of  its  thorns,  it  tells  you  that  "  There 
is  everything  to  hope."  Strip  it  of  its  leaves, 
it  will  express  that  "  There  is  everything  to 
fear." 

The  expression  of  nearly  all  flowers  may 
be  varied  by  changing  their  position.  Thus, 
the  marigold,  for  example  :  placed  upon  the 
head,  it  signifies  "  distress  of  mind  ;"  upon 
the  heart,  "  the  pains  of  love ;"  upon  the 
breast  "  ennui."  It  is  also  necessary  to  know 
that  the  pronoun  /is  understood  by  incli- 
ning the  flower  to  the  right,  and  the  pronoun 
thou  by  inclining  it  to  the  left. 

Such  are  the  first  principles  of  this  mys- 
terious language.  Love  and  friendship 
ought  to  join  their  discoveries  to  render  it 
more  perfect ;  these  sentiments,  the  most 


J2   LANGUAGE  APfD  SKNTIMENT  OF  FLOWERS. 

delightful  in  nature,  are  alone  able  to  perfect 
what  they  have  originated. 

We  shall  conclude  this  introduction  with 
the  following  lines  from  Burns,  on  the 
"Emblems  of  Flowers." 

Adown  winding  Nith  I  did  wander, 
To  mark  the  sweet  flowers  as  tiiey  spring  ; 

Adown  winding  Nith  I  did  wander, 
Of  Phillis  to  muse  and  to  sing. 

The  daisy  amused  my  fond  fancy, 

So  artless,  so  simple,  so  wild : 
Thou  emblem,  said  1,  o'  my  Phillis, 

For  she  is  simplicity's  child. 

The  rose-bud's  the  blush  of  my  charmer, 
Her  sweet  balmy  lip  when  'tis  press'd  ; 

How  fair  and  how  pure  is  the  lily, 
But  fairei  and  purer  her  breast. 

Yon  knot  of  gay  flowers  in  the  arbor, 
They  ne'er  wi'  my  Phillis  can  vie  ; 

Her  breath  is  the  breath  of  the  woodbine, 
Its  dew  drop  o'  diamond  her  eye. 

Her  voice  is  the  song  of  the  morning, 
That  wakes  through  the  green-spreading  giove. 

When  Phcebus  peeps  over  the  mountains, 
On  music,  and  pleasure,  and  love. 

But  beauty,  how  frail  and  how  fleeting 
The  bloom  of  a  fine  summer's  day  ! 

While  worth  in  the  mind  »'  my  Phillis 
Will  flourish  with  ait  a  decay ! 


FLOWERS, 


WITH    THE 


SENTIMENTS  WHICH  THEY  REPRESENT 


A  Broken  Straw Dissension  j  Rupture 

A  Rose  Leaf I  never  importune. 

A  tuft  of  Moss Maternal  love. 

Acacia Platonic  love. 

Acacia  Rose Elegance. 

Aconite:  Wolfs  Bane. Misanthropy. 

Aconite-Leaved  Crow- 
foot, or  Fair  Maid  of 
France Lustre. 

African  Man-gold Vulgar  minds. 

Agn  us  Castus Cold  ness ;  to  live  with. 

out  love. 

Agrimony Thankfulness. 


1-1  THK   LANGUAGE   AND 

Allspice  (Calycanthus}.  Benevolence. 

Almond  Laurel Perfidy. 

Almond-Tree     Indiscretion ;  Promise. 

Alo^ Acute  sorrow :  Bitter- 
ness. 

Althaea  Frutex Persuasion. 

Amaranth Immortality. 

Amaryllis Haughtiness:  Pride. 

Ambrosia Txrve  returned. 

American  Cowslip   . . .  \  ou  are  mv  Divinity. 

Amethyst Admiration. 

Angelica Inspiration. 

Apple '1  emptation. 

Apple  Blossom Preference. 

Arbor  Vitae Unchanging  friendship ; 

Old  age. 

Ash-Tree Grandeur. 

Aspen-Tree Lamentation. 

Asphodel . .  My  regrets  follow  you  to 

the  grave. 

Auricula Painting. 

Austrian  Rose Very  lovely. 

Azalea Temperance. 


SENTIMENT    OF    FLOWERS.  13 

Bachelor's  Buttons Hope  in  love. 

Balm Social  intercourse. 

Balm-gentle Pleasantry. 

Balm  of  Gilcad Healing. 

Balaam   (noli-metan- 
gere) Impatience. 

Barberry Sourness ;  Sharpness. 

Basil Hatred. 

Bee  Ophrys Error. 

Bee  Orchis Industry. 

Beech Prosperity. 

Bear's  Breech  (Acan- 
thus)   The  Arts. 

Belladonna Imagination. 

Bilberry Treachery. 

Bindweed Extinguish. 

Broom Humility. 

Bittersweet  Xiirht-'hade.Tnith. 

Black  Mulberry  Tiee.  .1  will  not  survive  you. 

Black  Pti|>lar Courage. 

Black  Thorn Difficulty. 

Bladder  Nut  Tree Frivolous  amusement. 

Blue  Bottle  Centaurv.  .D*>lioacv. 


16  THE   LANGUAGK    4ND 

Blue  Canterbury  Bell .  .Constancy. 

Blue  Periwinkle Early  friendship. 

Blue  Violet Modesty. 

Borage Bluntness. 

Box Stoicism. 

Bramble Envy. 

Branch  of  Currants  . .  .You  please  all. 
Branch  of  Thorns  ....  Severity ;  Rigor. 

Bridal  Rose Happy  love. 

Broom Neatness. 

Buckbean Calm ;  Repose. 

Budoss Falsehood. 

Burdock Importunity. 

Buttercups Ingratitude. 

Butterfly  Orchis Gayety. 

Cabbage Profit. 

Cacalia Adulation. 

Cactus I  burn. 

CalLa Magnificent  beauty. 

Camellia  Japonica. . .  .Unpretending  excellence 
Campanula,  or  Pyra- 
midal Bell  Flower. .  .Gratitu.le. 


SKHTI.MKNT    OF    K1OWKRS.  J7 

C.ui  ly  Tail Architecture. 

Cardinal  flower Distinction. 

Canary  Grass Perseverance. 

Carnation Pride  and  Beauty. 

Carolina  Ro«e Love  is  dangerous. 

Cashew  Xut Perfume. 

Cedar  of  Lebanon. . .  .Incorruptible. 
Cedar-Tree :  Fennel .  .Strength. 

Camomile Energy  in  adversity. 

Checkered  Fnlillarv. . .  Persecution. 

Cherry-Tree (iood  education. 

Chestnut-Tree Do  me  justice. 

China  Aster >  aneiy. 

China, or  Indian  PinK..  Aversion. 
China,  or  MonthlyRose. Beauty  ever  new. 
Chrysanthemum Cheerfulness  under  ad- 
versity. 

Cinquefoil Beloved  daughter. 

Citron Beauty  with  ill  humor. 

Clove  scented  Pink  . .  .Dignity. 

Cobcea Gossip. 

Cock's  Comb  (Crested 

Amaranth) Singularity. 


18  THE   LANGUAGE   AND 

Columbine Folly. 

Convolvulus,  Blue  . . .  .Repose. 

Convolvulus,  Major. .  .Dangerous  insinuator. 

Convolvulus,  Pink. .  ..Worth  sustained  by  ju- 
dicious and  tender  af- 
fection. 

Coreopsis Always  cheerful. 

Coriander Hidden  merit. 

Corn   Cockle    (Rose 

Campion) Gentility. 

Cornell-Tree Duration. 

Coronella Success      crown     yout 

wishes. 

Cowslip Pensiveness. 

Crown  Imperial Majesty ;  Power. 

C  uckoo  Flower Paternal  error. 

Cuckoo  Pint Ardor. 

Cyclamen Diffidence. 

Cypress  and  Marygold 

together Despair. 

i 
Cypress-Tree Mourning. 

Daffodil Deceitful  hope. 


SENTIMENT   OF    FLOWERS.  19 

Dahlia Instability. 

Daisy — Michaelmas. .  .Cheerfulness. 

Daisy    Innocence. 

Dandelion Oracle. 

Darnel,  or  Ray  Grass.  .Vice. 

Dead  leaves Sadness. 

Dew  Plant Serenade. 

Dittany  of  C  rete Birth. 

Dittany,  white Passion. 

Dodder  of  Thyme Baseness. 

Dog's  Bane(Apocynum)Deceit ;  Falsehood 
Dragon  Plant,  Catchfly  Snare. 

Ebony Blackness 

Eglantine — Sweetbrier. Poetry. 

Elder Compassion. 

Enchanter's     Night- 
shade   Fascination. 

Endive Frugality. 

Evening  Primrose Inconstancy. 

Everlasting,  or  Cotton 

Weed Never  ceasing  remem 

brance. 


20  THE  L.^M,IAC;K  AND 

Everlasting  Pea  . : . . .  .Lasting  pleasure. 

False  Narcissus Delusive  hope. 

Fern Sincerity. 

Ficoides,  or  Ice  Plant.  .Your  looks  freeze  me. 

Field  Anemone Sickness. 

Fig Argument. 

Fig  Man-gold Idleness. 

Fig-Tree Prolific. 

Fir-Tree Elevation. 

Flax I  feel  your  kindness. 

Flax Domestic  industry. 

Flax-leaved      Goldy- 
locks.  Tardiness. 

Flowering  Fern Revery. 

Flower  of  an  Hour.  .  ..Delicate  beauty. 

Fool's  Parsley Silliness. 

Fox  Glove Insincerity. 

Foxtail  Grass Sporting. 

Fraxinella Fire. 

French  HoneysncKie. .  .Rustic  bt'auty 

French  Marysold Jealousy. 

Fumitory Spleen. 


SENTIMENT    OF   FLOWERS.  2i 

Garden  Anemone Forsaken. 

Garden  Daisy I   partake    your    senti- 
ments. 

Garden  Marygold Uneasiness    and    jeal- 
ousy. 

Garden  Ranunculus. .  .You  are  rich  in  attrac- 
tion. 

Garden  Sage Esteem. 

Garland  of  Roses Reward  of  virtue. 

Geranium,  Ivy Bridal  favor. 

Geranium,  Nutmeg. . .  .Expected  meeting. 

Gillyflower Lasting  beauty. 

Globe  Amaranth Unchangeable. 

Goat's  Rue Reason. 

Golden  Rod Precaution. 

Goosefoot  (Bonus  Hen- 

ricus) Goodness. 

Gorse Enduring  affection. 

Grass Utility. 

Guelder  Rose Winter  of  age. 

Harebell Grief. 

Hawkweed Quick-sightedness. 


22  THE    LANGUAGE   AND 

Hawthorn Hope. 

Hazel Reconciliation. 

Heath Solitude. 

Helenium Tears. 

Hellebore Female  inconstancy. 

Heliotrope Devotion. 

Hemlock You  will  cause  my  death 

Henbane Imperfection. 

Hepatica,  or  Noble  Liv- 
erwort   Confidence. 

Holly Foresight. 

Hollyhock Fruitfulness. 

Honesty  (Lunaria) . . .  .Honesty. 

Honey  Flower Love,  sweet  and  secret. 

Honeysuckle Bonds  of  love. 

Hop Injustice. 

Hornbeam-Tree Ornament. 

Horse-Chestnut Luxury. 

House  Leek Vivacity. 

Houstonia  Cerulea  . . .  .Content ;  Quiet  happi- 
ness. 

Hoya Sculpture. 

Hundred-leaved  Rose.  .Graces. 


SENTIMENT    OF    FLOWEHS.  23 

Hyacinth Game — Play. 

Hydrangea  (Hortensia)  Boaster;  You  are  cold. 

Indian,  or  Sweet  Scabi- 
ous   I  have  lost  all. 

Indian  Pink Always  lovely. 

Iris Message. 

Iris,  German Flame. 

Ivy Friendship  in  adversity, 

Japan  Rose Beauty  is  your  only  at 

traction. 

Jonquil Desire. 

Juniper Asylum  ;   Protection. 

King's  Cups I  wish  I  was  rich. 

Lady's  Mantle Fashion. 

Lady's  Slipper Fickleness. 

Larch — Pine Boldness. 

Larkspur Levity ;  Lightness. 

Laurel Glory. 

Laurestine I  die  if  neglected. 

Lavender Acknowledgment. 


24  THK   LANGUAGE   AND 

Lemon Zest. 

Lettuce Cold-hearted. 

Lilac First  emotion  of  love. 

Lily  of  the  Valley Return  of  happiness. 

Linden,  or  Lime-Tree.  .Conjugal  love. 

Lint I  feel  all  my  obligations 

to  you. 

Lobelia Malevolence. 

Locust  Plant Affection    beyond    the 

grave. 

London  Pride Frivolity. 

Lotus  Flower Estranged  love. 

Love  lies  Bleeding  . . .  .Desertion. 

Love  in  a  Mist Embarrassment. 

Lucern Life. 

Lupine Dejection. 

Lychnis Religious  enthusiasm. 

Madder Calumny. 

Magnolia Love  of  nature. 

Maiden  Hair Discretion ;  Secrecy. 

Mallow Sweet  or  mild   disposi- 
tion. 


SLNTI.MENT    OF    H.O'.»hRS.  25 

Manchmel-Tree Falsehood. 

Mandrake Rarity. 

Maple Reserve. 

Majoram Blushes. 

Marvel  of  Peru Timidity. 

Marygold Inquietude. 

May  Rose Precocity. 

Meadow  Saffron My  best  days  are  past. 

Meadow  Sweet Uselessness. 

Mezereon Desire  to  please. 

Michaelmas  Daisy  . . .  .Afterthought. 

Mignonette Your  qualities   surpass 

your  charms. 

Milk  Vetch Your   presence    softens 

my  pains. 

Mimosa Courtesy. 

Mint ;  Snowball Virtue. 

Mistletoe .1  surmount  all  difficul- 
ties. 

Mock  Orange,  or  Syr- 

insja(Philadelphus)  .Fraternal  love. 

Monk's  Hood Kni?ht  errantry. 

M  oonwort Forget/illness. 


2fi  ripr 

Moschatel .  .Weakness ;    Insignifi- 
cance. 

Moss  Rose Pleasure  without  alloy. 

Moss  Rose  bud Confession. 

Moving  Plant Agitation. 

Mountain  Laurel Ambition. 

Mountain  Pink Aspiring. 

Mourning  Geranium  ..Despondency. 
Mouse-ear  Chickweed  .Ingenious  simplicity. 

Mushroom Suspicion. 

Musk  Rose Capricious  beauty. 

Myosotis,  or  Mouse-ear.Forget-me-not. 

Myrobalan .Privation. 

Myrtle Love. 

Nasturtium Patriotism. 

Nettle Cruelty. 

Night  Convolvulus. . . .Night. 

Nightshade Dark  thoughU. 

Nosegay Gallantry. 

Oak  and  Holly Hospitality. 

Oak  Leaf Bravery  and  Human  ij 


SENTIMENT    OK    FLOWERS.  27 

Olive  Branch Peace. 

Orange  Flower Chastity. 

Orange-Tree Generosity. 

Orchis    A  belle. 

Oriental  Persicaria. . ..  Restoration. 
Osier Frankness. 

Palm .Victory. 

Pansy,  or  Heart's  Ease .  Thoughts,  Pensez  a  mol, 
Think  of  me. 

Parsley Entertainment;    Feast- 
ing. 

Pasque  Flower  Ane- 
mone   You  are  without  preten- 
sion. 

Passion  Flower Belief;  Religious  super- 

stition. 

Patience  Dock Patience. 

Peach  Blossom I  am  your  captive. 

Periwinkle Sweet  remembrances. 

Periwinkle,     red    or 

white Delightful  recollections. 

Peruvian  Heliotrope ...  I  love  you ;  Infatuation. 


28  THE   LANGUAGE    AND 

Pheasant's  Eye  (Adon- 
is)   Sorrowful    remembran- 
ces. 

Phlox Unanimity. 

Pimpernel Assignation. 

Pine Pity. 

Pine  Apple You  are  perfect. 

Pink Lively  and  pure  affec- 
tion. 

Plum-Tree Keep  your  promises. 

Poet's  Narcissus Egotism. 

Polyanthus Pride  of  riches. 

Pomegranate Foolishness. 

Pompon  Rose Genteel ;  Pretty. 

Poppy Consolation  of  sleep. 

Potato Beneficence. 

Prickly  Pear Satire. 

Primrose Early  youth. 

Privet Prohibition. 

Purple  Cloves Provident. 

Purple-eyed   Succory 
Hawkweed Protection. 

Purple  lilac Fastidiousness. 


SENTIMENT    OF    FLOWERS.  29 

Bashful  shame. 
•'liine-Tree Genius. 

Quaking  Grass Agitation. 

liueen's  Rocket She  will  be  fashionable. 

Ilanunculus  (R.  Asiati-  You    are    radiant   with 

cus) charms. 

Raspberry  or  Bramble .  Remorse. 

Red  Double  Pink Woman's  love. 

Red-leaved  Rose Beauty  and  prosperity. 

Red  Pink Talent. 

Red  Poppy Evanescent  pleasure. 

Red  Rose  Bud Pure  and  lovely. 

Red  Tulip Declaration  of  love. 

Red  Valerian Accommodating  disposi- 
tion. 

Reeds Music. 

Rest  Harrow Obstacle. 

Ring  Flower Marriage. 

Rhododendron Danger. 

Rocket Rivalry. 

Rock  Mad  wort Tranquillity. 


THE   LANGUAGE    AND 

Rock  Rose  (Cistus)  . .  .Popular  favor. 

Rose Beauty. 

Rose  Bud Young  girl. 

Rose,  Damask Freshness,  or  bloom  of 

complexion. 

Rose-colored  Primrose. Unpatronised  merit. 
Rosebay  Willowherb  ..Celibacy. 
Rosemary Your   presence  revives 

me. 
Rose-scented~Geranium-Preference. 

Rudbeckia Justice. 

Rue Purification. 

Rush Docility;  Complaisance. 

Saffron  (Crocussativns). Mirth ;   Excess  is  dan- 
gerous. 

Sardony Irony. 

Scabious,  Dark  Blue. .  .Unfortunate  attachment 
Mourning  bride. 

Scarlet  Fuchsia Taste. 

Scarlet  Geranium Comforting. 

Scarlet  Ipomaea ;  Indian 

Jasmine I  attach  myself  to  you. 


SKNT1MENT    OF    FLOWEKS.  31 

Scarlet  Lily High  Soul. 

Scarlet  Nasturtium . . .  .Splendor. 

Scarlet  Poppy Fantastic  extravagance. 

Sea  Lavender Dauntlessness. 

Serpentine  Cactus  . . .  .Horror. 

Service-Tree Prudence. 

Silver-leaved    Gerani- 
um   Recall. 

Small  Bindweed Obstinacy. 

Small  Cape  Marygold.  .Presage. 

Snake's  Tongue Slander. 

Snap  Dragon Presumption. 

Snowball-Tree Age. 

Snowdrop Consolation. 

Sorrowful  Geranium. .  .Melancholy  spirit. 

Southern  Wood Jest ;  Bantering. 

Spanish  Jasmine Sensuality. 

Speedwell Resemblance. 

Spider  Ophrys Skill. 

Spider  wort ...  .Transient  happiness. 

Spindle-Tree Your  image  is  engraven 

on  my  heart. 
Spring  Crocus ........  Youthful  gladness. 


32  THE   LANGUAGE   AND 

Spring  Grass  (Anthox- 

anthum)   Fragrance 

Spruce  Pine Hope  in  adversity. 

St.  John's  Wort Superstition. 

Stinging  Nettle Scandal. 

Stramonium Disguise. 

Strawberry Perfect  excellence. 

Striped  Pink,  or  Carna- 
tion   Refusal. 

Starwort Afterthought. 

Strawberry-Tree False  pretension. 

Sunflower False  riches. 

•Swallow- wort Medicine. 

Sweet-scented  Clematis.Artifice. 

Sweet-scented    Tussi-  Justice   shall    be  done 
lage,  or  Coltsfoot.          you. 

Sweet  Pea Delicate  pleasure. 

Sweet  William Finesse. 

Sweet  Sultan ;  Blue  Bot- 
tle  Felicity. 

Tall  Sunflower Lofty  and  pure  thoughts 

Tamarisk Crime. 


SENTIMENT   OF    FLOWERS.  33 

Tansy;   Tremella  Nos 

toe Resistance. 

Teasle Misanthropy. 

Ten  Weeks'  Stock Promptitude. 

Thistle Austerity. 

Thorn  Apple ;    Monk's 

Hood Deceitful  charms. 

Thrift  Sympathy. 

Throat  Wort Neglected  beauty. 

Thyme Activity. 

Tooth  wort Secret  love. 

Trefoil Unity. 

Truffle Surprise. 

Trumpet  Flower   (Big- 

nonia) Separation. 

Tuberose Voluptuousness. 

Tulip-Tree Fame. 

Turnip  and  Wild  Grape.Charity. 

Variegated  Tulip Beautiful  eyes. 

Various-colored  Lanta- 
na...., Rigor. 

Venice  Sumach Intellectual  excellence. 

2 


34  THE  LANGUAGE   AND 

Venus's  Looking  Glass  .Flattery. 

Verbena Sensibility. 

Vernal  Grass Poor,  but  happy. 

Veronica Fidelity  in  friendship. 

Vervain Enchantment. 

Vine Intoxication. 

Virginian  Jasmine  . . .  .Separation. 
Virgin's  Bower Filial  love. 

Wake  Robin Ardor. 

Wallflower Fidelity  in  adversity. 

Water  Lily Eloquence. 

Watermelon Bulkiness. 

Water  Willow Freedom. 

Weeping  Willow Melancholy. 

Wheat Riches. 

White  Daisy I  will  think  of  il. 

White  Jasmine Amiability. 

\V  hite  Lilac Youth. 

White  Lily Purity  and  Modesty. 

White  Mulberry-Tree.. Wisdom. 

White  Mullein Good  nature. 

White  Periwinkle Pleasures  of  memory. 


SENTIMENT    OF    FLOWERS.  33 

White  Pink Fair  and  fascinating. 

White  Poplar Time. 

White  Poppy Sleep  of  the  heart. 

White  Rose Silence. 

White  Rose  Bud Heart  ignorant  of  love. 

White  Violet C  andor. 

White  Water  Lily  ....Purity  of  heart. 
Wild  Honeysuckle  ....  Inconstancy  in  love* 
Wild,  or  Dog  Rose. . .. Simplicity. 

Wild  Plum-Tree Independence. 

Wild  Sorrel Paternal  affection. 

Willow  Herb;  Lythnun.Pretension. 

Winter  Cherry Deception. 

Witch  Hazel Spell  bound. 

Woodbine Fraternal  love. 

Wood  Sorrel Maternal  tendernes*. 

Wormwood Absence. 

Yarrow ;  Mi  Ifoil War. 

Yellow  Amaryllis Pride. 

Yellow  Carnation  ....  Disdain. 
Yellow  Day  Lily;    Me- 
zereon Coquetry. 


36    LANGUAGE  AND  SENTIMENT  OF  FI.OWf.nS. 

Yellow  Iris Flame. 

Yellow  Jasmine Grace  and  Elegance. 

Yellow  Lily Playful  gayety. 

Yellow  Marygold Sacred  aflections. 

Yellow  Rose Infidelity. 

Yellow  Violet Rustic  happinest. 

Yew Sorrow. 


SENTIMENTS, 


THE  FLOWERS  BY  WHICH  THEY  ARE  REI 
BESENTED. 


A  belle Orchis. 

Absence ^  ormwood. 

Accommodating  disposi- 
tion   Red  Valerian. 

Acknowledgment Lavender. 

Activity Thyme. 

Acute  sorrow;    Bitter- 
ness   Aloe. 

Admiration Amethyst. 

Adulation Cacalia. 

AHection    beyond   the 
grave Locust  Plant. 


38  THE   LANGUAGE  AND 

Afterthought Star  wort. 

Afterthought Michaelmas  Daisy. 

Agitation Moving  Plant. 

Agitation Quaking  Grass. 

Always  cheerful Coreopsis. 

Always  lovely Indian  Pink. 

Ambition Mountain  Laurel. 

Amiability White  Jasmine. 

Architecture Candy  Tuft. 

Ardor Wake  Robin ;  Cuckoo 

Pint. 

Argument Fig. 

Artifice Sweet-scented  Clematis 

Arts  (The) Bear's  Breech  (Acan- 
thus). 

Age Snowball-Tree. 

Aspiring » .  .Mountain  Pink. 

Assignation Pimpernel. 

Asylum ;  Protection . . . Juniper. 

Austerity Tnisile. 

Aversion China,  or  Indian  Pink. 

Baseness Tkxlder  of  Thyme. 


SENTIMENT   OF   FLOWERS.  39 

Bashful  shame Peony. 

Beautiful  eyes Variegated  Tulip. 

Beauty Rose. 

Beauty  and  prosperity. Red-leaved  Rose. 

Beauty  is  your  only  at- 
traction   Japan  Rose. 

Beauty  ever  new China,  or  Monthly  Rose 

Beauty  with  ill  humor.. Citron. 

Belief;  Religious  super- 
stition  Passion  Flower. 

Beloved  daughter Cinquefoil. 

Beneficence Potato. 

Benevolence Allspice  (Calycanthus). 

Birth Dittany  of  Crete. 

Blackness Ebony. 

Bluntness Borage. 

Blushes Majoram. 

Boaster;  You  are  cold. Hydrangea  (Hortensia) 

Boldness Larch ;  Pine. 

Bonds  of  love Honeysuckle. 

Bravery  and  Humanity. Oak  Leaf. 

Bridal  favor. . , Ivy  Geranium. 

Bulkincss Watermelon. 


40  THE    LANGUAGE    AND 

Calm ;  Repose Buckbean. 

Calumny Madder. 

Candor White  Violet. 

Capricious  beauty  ....  Musk  Rose. 

Celibacy Rosebay  Willowherb. 

Charity Turnip      and      Wild 

Grape. 

Chastity Orange  Flower. 

Cheerfulness Michaelmas  Daisy. 

Cheerfulness  under  ad- 
versity   Chrysanthemum. 

Cold-hearted Lettuce. 

Coldness;  to  live  with- 
out love Agnus  Castus. 

Comforting Scarlet  Geranium. 

Compassion Elder. 

Confession Moss  Rose  bud. 

Confidence Hepatica.  or  Noble  Liv 

erwort. 

Conjugal  love Linden,  or  Lime-Tree. 

Consolation Snowdrop. 

Consolation  of  sleep. .  .Poppy. 

C  onstancy Blue  Canterburv  Bell. 


I  I  Mi  N  I-    OK     KI.o\VKRS  41 


.       JllWl     happi- 

.............  Hou.vtonia  (  Yruleu. 

i  .  y  ............  Yellow  Day  Lily  ;    Me- 

zeremi. 
Courage  ............  Black  Poplar. 

Courtesy  ............  Mimo<a. 

Crime  .............  Tainiirisk. 

Cruelty  ..............  Nettle 

DariLrer  ..............  Rhododendron. 

Dangerous  insinuator.  .Convolvulus,  Major. 
Dark  thoughts  ........  Xisjhtshade. 

Dauntlessness  ........  Sea  Lavender. 

Din-it  ;   Falsehood  .  .  .  .Dog's  Bane(  Apueynum) 

Dcreitful  charms  ......  Thorn  Apple;    Monk's 

Hood. 
Dcreitful  hope  .......  Daii'odil. 

Deception       .........  Winter  Chi-rry. 

Declaration  of  love.  ...Red  Tulip. 

Dejection  ............  Lupinr. 

Delicacy  ............  Blue  Bottle  Centaury. 

Drlicate  beaulj  .......  Flower  of  an  Hour. 

Delicate  pleasure  .....  Sweet  Pea. 


42  THE   LANGUAGE   ANO 

Delightful  recollections.Periwinkle,    red    or 

white. 

Delusive  hope False  Narcissus. 

Desire Jonquil. 

Desire  to  please Mezereon. 

Desertion. Love  lies  Bleeding. 

Despair Cypress  and  Marygold 

together. 

Despondency Mourning  Geranium. 

Devotion Heliotrope. 

Difficulty Black  Thorn. 

Diffidence Cyclamen. 

Dignity Clove  scented  Pink. 

Discretion ;  Secrecy . . .  Maiden  Hair. 

Disdain Yellow  Carnation. 

Disguise Stramonium. 

Dissension;  Rupture.. A  Broken  Straw. 

Distinction Cardinal  Flower. 

Do  me  justice Chestnut-Tree. 

Docility;  Complaisance. Rush. 
Domestic  industry  . . .  .Flax. 
Duration Cornell-Tree. 


SENTIMENT   OF    FLOWERS.  43 

Early  friendship Blue  Periwinkle. 

Early  youth Primrose. 

Egotism Poet's  Narcissus. 

Elegance Acacia  Rose. 

Elevation Fir-Tree. 

Eloquence Water  Lily. 

Embarrassment Love  in  a  Mist. 

Enchantment Vervain. 

Enduring  affection ....  Gorse. 
Energy  in  adversity  . .  .Camomile. 
Entertainment ;    Feast- 
ing   Parsley. 

Envy Bramble. 

Error Bee  Ophrys. 

Esteem Garden  Sage. 

Estranged  love Lotus  Flower. 

Evanescent  pleasure . . .  Red  Poppy. 

Expected  meeting Geranium,  Nutmeg. 

Extinguish BindweH. 

Fair  and  fascinating. .  .White  Pink. 

False  pretension Strawberry-Tree. 

False  riches Sunflower. 


44  THE    LANGUAGE    AND 

Falsehood Manchineel-Tree. 

Falsehood Bugloss. 

Fame Tulip-Tree. 

Fantastic  extravagance.Scarlet  Poppy. 

Fascination Enchanter's     Night- 
shade. 

Fashion Lady's  Mantle. 

Fastidiousness Purple  lilac. 

Felicity Sweet  Sultan ;  Blue  Bot- 
tle. 

Female  imconstancy  ..Hellebore. 

Fickleness Lady's  Slipper. 

Fidelity  in  adversity. .  .Wallflower. 

Fidelity  in  friendship.  .Veronica. 

Filial  love Virsrin's  Bower. 

Finesse Sweet  William. 

Fire Fraxinella. 

First  emotion  of  lovr . .  .Lilac. 

Flame Yellow  Iris 

Flattery V»-nii>'-   Lool          ' 

Folly Cnlnmmnr. 

Foolishness 

Foresight Hollv. 


SENTIMENT   OF    FLOWERS.  45 

Forget-me-not Myosotis,  or  Mouse-ear. 

Forgetfulness Moonwort. 

Forsaken Garden  Anemone. 

Fragrance Spring  Grass  (Anthox- 

anthuiji). 

Frankness Osier. 

Fraternal  love Woodbine;  Mock  Or- 
ange, or  Syringa  (Phil- 
adelphus). 

Freedom Water  Willow. 

Freshness,  or  bloom  of 

complexion Damask  Rose. 

Friendship  in  adversity. Ivy. 

Frivolity London  Pride. 

Frivolous  amusement.  .Bladder  IVutTree. 

Frugality Endive. 

Fruitf illness Hollyhock. 

Gayety Butterfly  Orchis. 

Gallantry Nosegay. 

Game — Play Hyarinth. 

Generosity Orange-Tree. 

Genius . .   Plane-Tree. 


46  THE   LANGUAGE    AND 

Genteel ;  Pretty Pompon  Rose. 

Gentility Corn   C  ockle    (Rose 

Campion). 

Glory Laurel. 

Good  education Cherry-Tree. 

Good  nature White  Mullein. 

Goodness Goosefoot  (Bonus  Hen- 

ricus). 

Gossip Cobcea. 

Grace  and  Elegance. .  .Yellow  Jasmine. 

Graces Ash-Tree. 

Grandeur Hundred-leaved  Rose. 

Gratitude Campanula,  or  Pyra- 
midal Bell  Flower. 

Grief Harebell. 

Happy  love Bridal  Rose. 

Hatred Basil. 

Haughtiness;  Pride  . .  .Amaryllis. 

Healing Balm  of  Gilead. 

Heart  ignorant  of  love. "White  Rose  Bud. 

Hidden  merit Coriander. 

High  Soul  Scarlet  Lily. 


MIMKNT   OK    FLOWKRS.  47 

Honesty Honesty  (Lunaria). 

Hope Hawthorn. 

Hope  in  adversity Spruce  Pine. 

Hope  in  love Bachelor's  Buttons. 

Horror Serjienline  Cactus. 

Hospitality Oak  and  Holly. 

Humility Broom. 

I  am  your  captive Peach  Blossom. 

I  attach  myself  to  you  .Scarlet  Ipomara  j  Indian 
Jasmine. 

I  burn Cactus. 

I  die  if  neglected Laurestine. 

I  feel  all  my  obligations 
to  you Lint. 

I  feel  your  kindness  . .  .Flax. 

I  have  lost  all Indian,  or  Sweet  Scabi- 
ous. 

I   love    you ;     Infatua- 
tion   Peruvian  Heliotrope. 

I  never  importune A  Rose  Leaf. 

I    partake    your    senti- 
ments   Garden  Daisy. 


48  THE    LANGUAGE    AND 

I  surmount  all  difficul- 
ties   Mistlelt/e. 

I  will  not  survive  you.. Black  Mulberry  Tree. 

I  will  think  of  it White  Daisy. 

I  wish  I  was  rich King's  Cups. 

Idleness Fig  Marygold. 

Imagination Belladonna. 

Immortality Amaranth. 

Impatience Balsam    (noli-metan- 

gere). 

Imperfection Henbane. 

Importunity Burdock. 

Inconstancy Evening  Primrose. 

Inconstancy  in  love  . . .  Wild  Honeysuckle. 

Incorruptible Cedar  of  Lebanon. 

Independence Wild  Plum-Tree. 

Indiscretion ;  Promise .  .Almond-Tree. 

Industry Bee  Orchis. 

Infidelity Yellow  Rose. 

Ingenious  simplicity. .  .Mouse-ear  fhickweed. 

Ingratitude Buttercups. 

Injustice Hop. 

Innocence  . .  i Daisy. 


:  I.MKXT    OK    KLOWKH*.  49 

Inquietude 

Insincerity Fox  Glove. 

Inspiration Angelica. 

Instability Dahlia. 

Intellectual  excellence.  Venice  Sumach. 

Intoxication Vine 

Irony Sanloiiy. 

• 
Jealousy French  Marysokl. 

Jest;  Bantering Southern  Wood. 

Justice Rudbeckia. 

Justice   shall   be  done  Sweet-scented     Tussi 
you.  lage,  or  Coltsfoot. 

Keep  your  promises ....  Plum-Tree. 
Knight  errantry Monk's  Hood. 

Lamentation Aspen-Tree. 

Lasting  beauty Gillyflower. 

Lasting  pleasure Evt-rlastinz  Pea. 

Levity ;  Lightness  ....  Larkspur. 

Life Lucern. 

Lively  &,  pure  allection .  Pink. 


50  THE   LANGUAGE   AND 

Lofty  and  pure  thoughts.Tall  Sunflower. 

Love Myrtle. 

Love  is  dangerous  . . .. .  Carolina  Rose. 

Love  of  nature Magnolia. 

Love  returned Ambrosia. 

Love,  sweet  and  secret. Honey  Flower. 

Lustre Aconite-Leaved  Crow- 
foot, or  Fair  Maid  of 
France. 

Luxury Horse-Chestnut. 

Magnificent  beauty Calla. 

Majesty ;  Power Crown  Imperial. 

Malevolence Lobelia. 

Marriage Ring  Flower. 

Maternal  love A  tuft  of  Moss. 

Maternal  tenderness  .  .Wood  Sorrel. 

Medicine Swallow- wort. 

Melancholy Weeping  Willow. 

Melancholy  spirit Sorrowful  Geranium. 

Message Iris. 

Mirth ;    Excess  is  dan- 
gerous   SnflYon  (Crocussatmisl 


SENTIMENT   OF    KLOWERS. 

Misanthropy Teasle ;  Aconite ;  WolTs 

Bane. 

Modesty   Blue  Violet. 

Mourning Cypress-Tree. 

Music Reeds. 

My  regrets  follow  you  to 

the  grave Asphodel. 

My  best  days  are  past  .  Meadow  Saffron. 

Neatness Broom. 

Neglected  beauty Throat  Wort. 

Never  ceasing  remem-  Everlasting,  or  Cotton 

brance Weed. 

Night Xislit  Convolvulus. 

Obstacle Rest  Harrow. 

Obstinacy Small  Bindweed. 

Oracle Dandelion. 

Ornament Hornbeam-Tree. 

Paintin?  Auricula. 

Passion Dittany,  white. 

Paternal  affection Wild  Sorrel. 


52  THE    LANGUAGE    AND 

Paternal  error Cuckoo  Flower. 

Patience Patience  Dock. 

Patriotism Nasturtium. 

Peace Olive  Branch. 

Pensiveness Cowslip. 

Perfect  excellence. . .  .Strawberry. 

Perfidy Almond  Laurel. 

Perfume Cashew  Nut. 

Persecution    Checkered  Fritillary. 

Perseverance Canary  Grass. 

Persuasion Althaea  Frutex. 

Pity Pine. 

Platonic  love Acacia. 

Pleasantry Balm-gentle. 

Pleasures  of  memory  ..White  Periwinkle. 

Poetry Eglantine — Sweetbrier. 

Poor,  but  happy Vernal  Grass. 

Popular  favor Rock  Rose  (Cistus). 

Playful  gayety Yellow  Lily. 

Pleasure  without  alloy  .Moss  Rose. 

Precaution Golden  Rod. 

Preference Apple  Blossom ;   Rose- 

•cental  Geranium. 


.  SENTIMENT   OF    FLOWERS.  53 

Precocity May  Rose. 

Presage Sn:all  Cape  Marygold. 

Presumption Snap  Dragon. 

Pretension Willow  Herb;  Lythrum. 

Pride Yellow  Amaryllis. 

Pride  and  Beauty Carnation. 

Pride  of  riches Polyanthus. 

Privation Myrobalan. 

Profit Cabbage. 

Prohibition Privet. 

Prolific Fig-Tree. 

Promptitude Ten  Weeks'  Stock. 

Prosperity Beech. 

Protection Purple-eyed    Succory 

Hawk  weed. 

Provident  ....    Purple  Cloves. 

Prudence Service-Tree. 

Pure  and  lovely Red  Rose  Bud. 

Purification Rue. 

Purity  and  Modesty  . .  .White  Lily. 
Purity  of  heart White  Water  Lily. 

Quicksightedness Hawk  weed. 


54  THE   LANGUAGE   AND 


Rarity Mandrake. 

Reason Goat's  Rue. 

Recall Silver-leaTed  Gerani- 
um. 

Reconciliation ....... .Hazel. 

Refusal Striped  Pink,  or  Carna 

tion. 

Religious  enthusiasm.  .Lychnis. 

Remorse Raspberry  or  Bramble. 

Repose Convolvulus,  Blue 

Resemblance Speedwell. 

Reserve Maple. 

Resistance Tansy ;  Tremella  Nos 

toe. 

Restoration Oriental  Persicaria. 

Return  of  happiness . .  .Lily  of  the  Valley. 

Revery Flowering  Fern. 

Reward  of  virtue Garland  of  Roses. 

Rigor Various-colored   Lanta 

Rivalry Rocket. 

Rustic  beauty French  Honeysuckle. 

Rustic  happiness Yellow  Violet. 


SENTIMF.NT   OF    FLOWERS.  53 

Riches Wheat. 

Sacred  affections. ....  Yellow  Marygold. 

Sadness Dead  leaves. 

Satire Prickly  Pear. 

Scandal Stinging  Nettle. 

Sculpture Hoya. 

Secret  love Toothwort. 

Sensibility Verbena. 

Sensuality Spanish  Jasmine. 

Separation Virginian  Jasmine. 

Separation Trumpet  Flower   ( Bi? 

nonia). 

Serenade Dew  Plant. 

Severity ;  Rigor Branch  of  Thorns. 

She  will  be  fashionable.Queen's  Rocket. 

Sickness Field  Anemone. 

Silence White  Rose. 

Silliness Fool's  Parsley. 

Simplicity Wild,  or  Dog  Rose. 

Sincerity Fern. 

Singularity Cock's  Coinb  (Crested 

Amaranth). 


56  THE    LANGUAGE   AND 

Skill Spider  Ophrys. 

Slander Snake's  Tongue. 

Sleep  of  the  heart White  Poppy. 

Snare Dragon  Plant,  Catchfly. 

Social  intercourse Balm. 

Solitude Heath. 

Sorrow Yew. 

Sorrowful  remembran-  Pheasant's  Eye  (Adon- 
ccs is). 

Sourness ;  Sharpness . .  .Barberry. 

Spell  bound Witch  Hazel. 

Spleen Fumitory. 

Splendor Scarlet  Nasturtium. 

Sporting Foxtail  Grass. 

Stoicism Box. 

Strength Cedar-Tree :  Fennel. 

Success      crown      your 

wishes Coronella. 

Superstition St.  John's  Wort. 

Surprise Truffle. 

Suspicion Mushroom. 

Sweet  or  mild   disposi- 
tion  Mallow. 


SENTIMENT   Of    KLOVVERS.  57 

Sweet  remembrances  ..Periwinkle. 
Sympathy Thrill. 

Talent Red  Pink. 

Tar  Ji  ness Flax-leaved      Goldy- 

locks. 

Taste Scarlet  Fuchsia 

Tears Helenium. 

Temperance Azalea. 

Temptation Apple. 

Thankfulness Agrimony. 

Thoughts,  Pensez  a  moi, 

Think  of  me Pansy,  or  Heart's  Ease. 

Time W  hite  Poplar. 

Timidity Marvel  of  Peru. 

Tranquillity Rock  Madwort. 

Transient  happiness. .  .Spiderwort. 

Treachery Bilberry. 

Truth Bittersweet  Nightshade. 

Unanimity Phtex. 

Vnchanging  friendship ; 

Old  age Arbor  Vitse. 


58  THE  LANGUAGE   AND 

Unchangeable Globe  Amaranth. 

Uneasiness    and    jeal- 
ousy   Garden  Marygold. 

Unfortunate  attachment ; 
Mourning  bride  ....  Scabious,  Dark  Blue. 

Unity Trefoil. 

Unpatronised  merit Rose-colored  Primrose. 

Unpretending     excel- 
lence  Camellia  Japonica. 

Uselessness Meadow  Sweet. 

Utility Grass. 

Variety China  Aster. 

Very  lovely Austrian  Rose. 

Vice Darnel,  or  P ay  Gras* 

Victory Palm. 

Virtue Mint ;  Snowball. 

Vivacity House  Leek. 

Voluptuousness Tuberose. 

Vulgar  minds African  Marygold. 

War Yarrow ;  Milfoil. 

Winter  of  age Guelder  Rose. 


SENTIMENT   OF    FLOVVE3S.  59 

Weakness;    Insignifi- 
cance   .,. . .  .MoschaU'l. 

Wisdom ". . . .  White  Mulberry-Tree. 

Woman's  love Red  Double  Pink. 

Worth  sustained  by  ju- 
dicious and  tender  af- 
fection   Pink,  frnrolvulus 


You  are  my  Divinity  ..American  Cowslip 

You  are  perfect Pine  Apple. 

You  are  radiant  with  Ranunculus  (R.  Asiati- 
charms ens). 

You  are  rich  in  attrac- 
tion  Garden  Ranunculus. 

You  are  without  preten-  Pasque  Flower  Ane- 
sion mone. 

You  please  all Branch  of  Currants. 

You  will  cause  my  death.Hemlock. 

Young  girl Rose  Bud. 

Your  image  is  engraven 
on  my  heart Spindle-Tree. 

Your  presence   revives 
me .   . .        •  Rosemcrr. 


THE    LANGUAGE 


Your  looks  freeze  me.  .Ficoides,  or  Ice  Plant 
Your   presence    softens 

my  pains  ...........  Milk  Vetch. 

Your  qualities   surpass 

your  charms  ........  Mignonette. 

Youth  ..............  White  Lilac. 

Youthful  gladness  .....  Spring  Crocu*. 

X  i  :s  t  .......  '.  ...   ...  Lemon. 


MI 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


REC'D  LD-URL 

&  APR  09 1990 


SRLF 

.QL         OCT 1 


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AUb 
REC'D  iD-U01 

AU6  1  OH 


191998 
LD-URt 


8 


1993 


7  1994 

v  II 


IfT  §     § 


^>   g 


, 

s  lor-l  .liirrl  In 


